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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754287">Worlds Away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoggedReality/pseuds/FoggedReality'>FoggedReality</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GreedFall (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Female De Sardet (GreedFall), Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Language, Near Death, POV Multiple, So Very Many Spoilers, Some Canon, Spoilers, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, some canon divergence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:21:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoggedReality/pseuds/FoggedReality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of jealousy, heartbreak, unrequited love, loyalty, and betrayal… and finding the courage to persevere despite it all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>De Sardet/Vasco (GreedFall)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Far From Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written from NPCs' POV, Kurt, Vasco, Constantin and some other thrown in where it fits. The story between the scenes, with some key scenes from the game added in. </p><p>This is not a "fix-it" story, but does significantly diverge from the game where it made sense to add more reaction/dialogue or to go in a different direction. So it does split off from canon, then comes back, then splits off again before coming full circle.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cousins had believed for so long that Teer Fradee would mean freedom.</p><p>What a colossal joke that had been.</p><p>Responsibility was one thing, but laboring under the constant watch of the court and the family was simply exhausting…and to Kurt, it always seemed monstrous to witness, especially when the cousins had been younger. To always have to act and look a certain way, to never bring shame or disgrace on the royal name, to always behave and pretend and put on a façade lest someone take advantage or forever be held under their sway for a single misstep…it was a horrible thing to subject anyone to.</p><p>So, it had always surprised him when the cousins were able to find enjoyment and fun…and get into more than the occasional mischief. It had made him even more proud when he was named their master-at-arms, to teach them to defend themselves, but also to give them more confidence…especially the quiet, shy, dark-haired, pale little Emelie De Sardet. He saw the strength behind the quietness, and he was protective of her in a way that he hoped was brotherly…anything else was far too dangerous to consider.</p><p>But now…this was <em>supposed</em> to be the cousins’ chance to be themselves. Instead, nothing had changed. But there was something in the air that felt like bad things were about to happen...that the island was angry with them for being arrogant enough to set their foreign boots on its soil and for daring to breathe its fresh air. The monster on the docks before they’d even set sail should have been their warning…<em>was</em> their warning…and they’d willfully ignored it, so full of the anticipation of the trip.</p><p>The ominous overtones of the line of masked doctors waiting for them at the foot of the gangplank in New Serene was their second warning, but it was too late to turn back, months from home and the security of the known. Constantin was oblivious as always, basking in his new role from the moment his soles touched land, but Kurt hung back with De Sardet, noting her frown that had nothing to do with the awful concoction the doctors had thrust at them.</p><p>“What’s wrong, green blood? Figured you and the princeling would just strip down and run bare through the streets to celebrate not being under anyone’s thumb.”</p><p>“We already did that on the ship.”</p><p>Kurt blinked, then realized that her smile was teasing…it was too bad that the humor in her tone and on her lips didn’t reach her eyes. Following her gaze to the animated argument between their Captain and a Naut Admiral, he crossed his arms and scowled, frustrated that she was already worrying about others instead of her own problems and responsibilities.</p><p>He’d found himself jealous at the attention she’d lavished on the Naut Captain during their voyage, but he reminded himself that it was an ally she was cultivating, since being on good relations with the Nauts would only benefit them all. But it was hard not to be twitchy…within only a few days of their voyage, Vasco became one of the rare people she brought into her circle…someone she was comfortable enough with to share her true self rather than remain politely friendly.</p><p>She and Vasco had spent many a meal or post-watch playing cards together, sharing stories, drinking together, or even sitting down to read or share a quiet moment watching the stars. That was the true test of how much she trusted another person…if she would simply sit with them and enjoy the silence of being in their company without starting to fidget or feel like she had to be “on.” The rest of the crew took to her just as quickly, so she never seemed to be alone during their journey.</p><p>For such an introvert, she seemed completely at ease with it, only seldom retreating to her own cabin for an evening alone. If they had been back on the continent, she would have been looking for an exit or an excuse to be elsewhere within the hour. Kurt had fully expected her to sequester herself in her cabin with her books and journals for the extent of the voyage.</p><p>Despite the current worry etched on her features, the master-at-arms had also noticed that she was losing the exhausted look she always had at court. No amount of kohl or bright color at her lips could ever disguise the darkness around her eyes, and since she’d stopped bothering with makeup during the voyage, the healthy glow was much more obvious in the bright, open, clean air.</p><p>“Just waiting for the other boot to drop, Kurt.” She hugged her arms over her chest like she was chilled, even through the warmth of the isle and the suffocating layers of formal wear she’d donned for their arrival and meetings with the local aristocracy.</p><p>“How so?”</p><p>She didn’t answer, nodding instead toward the Naut who was stalking toward them with a storm raging across his features.</p><p>“Well, I’ve been scullied.”</p><p>“What? <em>Why</em>?”</p><p>“The Admiral has <em>ordered</em> me to accompany you on your mission…although I suspect it has something to do with the contraband that was stowed onboard my ship.” Vasco narrowed his eyes at Kurt, no question who he blamed for it. “You may have put one over on the harbormaster, but you didn’t bother to think that the manifests might not match up here, did you.” He didn’t ask it, but spat the words directly at the Coin Guard, pointing an accusing finger.</p><p>Always the diplomat, she carefully stepped between the two, keeping the situation from escalating to physical violence. “I’m so sorry, Captain. We can’t undo what’s already done…and I’m not blameless in this, unfortunately. I'm so very sorry this was the result.” She took a deep breath, regret for her actions in Serene clear on her features. Kurt had fully expected her to throw him under the carriage…but then immediately felt guilty for thinking such a thing of her. She was always so ready to jump in front of another’s bullet to take the blame so others didn’t have to.  </p><p>” Let’s… concentrate on what we can do now to help fix it. Vasco, will you accompany me to my meetings with the ambassadors that I can’t put off any longer? In the meantime, Kurt, would you check in with the quartermaster and see that they receive their cargo?” She stepped back so she could see them both. “Please?”</p><p>The Naut drew himself up, nodding, stride brisk as he headed to the gates separating the port from the rest of the city. Kurt sneered as he walked past, a look that clearly said their discussion wasn’t over…but De Sardet slugged him hard on the arm. If he hadn’t been wearing leather armor, it would probably have left a bruise.</p><p>“Ow!” He rubbed the spot, turning to see her furious glare, green eyes fairly sparking. He refrained from saying what he was thinking, that the Naut had started it and he was simply going to finish it. He also didn't bother saying how much he looked forward to giving the arrogant and far-too-good-looking-for-his-own-good Captain a solid beat-down. </p><p>“Kurt!” He found himself taking a step back at her tone, and that simple action made her stop and draw in a deep calming breath, even though he knew she was still seething. “<em>We’re</em> at fault for him losing his position. You’re both Captains in your respective orders, so I expect you to act like it…and for you to help fix this mess that <em>we</em> got him into.” He always admired how she took responsibility for the mistakes she made, rather than pointing fingers at everyone else. It was so unlike every other noble he knew...including her cousin.</p><p>“He’s not likely to forgive, green blood.” She narrowed her eyes, and he held up both hands in surrender. “But I get it. I’d be pissed, too, if it was my job on the line.”</p><p>“It’s not just a job, Kurt. That’s their life. They are family. He just lost more than the command of a ship and its crew.”</p><p>Frowning, he nodded, finally understanding the extent of the Naut’s anger. This was exactly why the Prince named her Legate…she saw the bigger picture and cut to the heart of the reasons behind conflict.</p><p>“Sorry, Saré.” She rolled her eyes at the pet name, but she’d grown used to the shortened, bastardized form of her last name that the master-at-arms had given her years ago. He’d initially used it just to get a rise out of her, but it had become a form of affection between them…especially since he was one of the few people outside of her immediate family who even knew…or were allowed to use...her given name.</p><p>“I’m not the one who needs the apology. But for now, the pair of you can keep your distance until you can both be civil.” She gave him a very brief but reassuring smile…it still amazed him how quickly she seemed to be able to turn off her own anger...and trotted off to catch up to Vasco’s long stride.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. We'll Go Dancing Through the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>No one had ever encouraged De Sardet to be the way she was, least of all her cousin. She played her part when it was called for, but the reality was never what anyone ever expected.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In her cousin’s presence, she could always just be herself. Corsets unlaced, feet bare, raven hair loose from the ribbons and tight braids…bruised and grass-stained and giggling madly as they played rough bouts of tag through the palace grounds, dodging family, guards, and servants, hiding, sneaking, climbing rafters and rooftops.</p><p>His father….her uncle… berated her for being such a tomboy, but at the same time encouraged her to funnel that energy into becoming an exceptional fighter…something to channel the wild energy and give him peace of mind. The cousins had both suspected the demand for self-defense training and the assignment of a master-at-arms was so <em>someone</em> at Constantin’s side could save him from himself.</p><p>Constantin also took the brunt of their punishments, hearing the words repeated all too often, “Stop <em>encouraging</em> her!” But he could always sense the undertone, the unspoken part that his father would never say out loud but absolutely meant every word of. “Stop making her have to save your miserable life.”</p><p>No one had ever encouraged her to be the way she was, least of all him. She played her part when it was called for, but the reality was not what anyone ever expected. There were plenty of outspoken ladies of the court who hunted and fought just like the men and were well respected in their own right. Women were equal in the Congregation…but wanting grand adventure or being able to play a courtly role didn’t mean a person was naturally outgoing or that they <em>wanted</em> to be the center of attention.</p><p>She was and always had been agonizingly shy, and often resented being shoved into the limelight. It made her very, very good disappearing into the background like she wasn’t even there at all. Constantin always thought she would be named Spymaster someday, with her gentle silver tongue and the way she could jump out from the shadows when they played like one of those tales of the far continent’s ninjas.</p><p>But all too often the adventure ended in tragedy, and he had been the one there as she cried herself to sleep at night after being called a freak…or worse…by some arrogant, ignorant noble who didn’t see her standing nearby. Being niece to the Prince meant she had to engage with those same people later, even when she hated every moment of it, feelings carefully hidden behind her sweet and charming demeanor. Constantin knew from experience how emotionally draining it was, and invariably…even when she was inconsolable…he was the one who held her until she finally fell into an exhausted slumber, devoid of any more tears.</p><p>He was there for her, she was there for him. Inseparable, adoring, doting…<em>cousins</em>.</p><p>_________</p><p>While Constantin was enduring his own boring meetings and reminiscing on their childhood rather than paying close attention to the topic at hand, Emelie De Sardet was sitting and politely smiling at the Thélème ambassador, pretending she sympathized with his narrow views as they exchanged meaningless pleasantries in their necessary diplomatic tango. Vasco wondered how she sustained it for the hours they were obligated to visit, when he just wanted to punch the man in the throat within the first half hour, diplomacy be damned. This was one of the many reasons why he didn’t like nobles in general, but he had to admit that De Sardet did her job beautifully.</p><p>Even from the relatively short time he’d known her, he could see the difference in her as soon as they stepped back out into the street. Relief at being away from strict formalities relaxed her posture and visibly took a weight from her shoulders. There was a nagging in the back of his head that he could have been…<em>should</em> have been…her peer, and as a peer, might have had a chance to be more than just her friend...again.</p><p>The brief fling they’d shared on the ship had started nearly at the end of their voyage when he invited her up to the crow’s nest to view the stars. It wasn’t the first time they’d been there together, and he would forever swear on his life and honor that he had no intention of seducing her…then or ever…but it had been a beautiful, clear night and for once all was quiet and still. He could still remember the way she’d shot up the ropes like she was born to it…she’d told him many times how she and her cousin had climbed the balustrades, every tree in the orchards, and often hid high in the the rafters when they were in trouble.</p><p>Up there among the stars, she was the one that had turned to face him, her curls free and blowing across her face in the breeze, shivering slightly in the cool night air. She was beautiful at any time…even when sparring on deck in the heat of the day… but at that moment, she was a goddess in the moonlight. He pulled off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, and while he was gently pulling it closed around her, she rose up on her toes and kissed him.</p><p>He knew it was a mistake…<em>she</em> knew it was a mistake… a noble and a Naut were incompatible. Everyone knew that fact, and at the end of their voyage in just a few short days, that would be the last they saw of each other. But at that perfect moment, it didn’t matter… both of them were all groping hands and desperately pressing lips, tangling tongues and urgent need. He took her there above the sea, pressed against the mast, shapely legs around his hips, mouths clamped together to muffle the others’ moans.</p><p>After their gasping recovery and awkward reshuffling, she kissed him again, reigniting desire, and he took her once more on the rough boards of the nest’s floor, much more gently this time, exploring and ever so sweet. She left him with the imprint of her kisses on his shoulder where she silenced her own cries of pleasure…and every time he saw it in the mirror until it faded, it made him want her all the more.</p><p>He wasn’t quite sure how they’d managed not to let the entire crew in on their rendezvous over the next few days. He found that she was an expert in sneaking touches and looks and words that meant the world to him but only appeared friendly to others. He was positive that his lo…<em>lust</em>…was written plainly on his face, among other places, for that last week.</p><p>But perhaps it had all been his imagination, because once they’d reached land, she was all business…a noble once more. Of course, she was still a close friend…but he knew the rest had changed, because that was the way of the world. He shoved all of those thoughts aside forcibly; it would only serve to make him angry again at the unfairness of it, and the rest would just make him uncomfortable until he could find himself alone later.</p><p>“Any more for today, Emelie?”</p><p>“Oh gods, no. After the Bridge Alliance this morning, and the Ordo Luminus this afternoon, I don’t think I can take any more politely veiled misogyny and bigotry.”</p><p>“How did you manage dealing with it for all those years in court?”</p><p>“Lots of alcohol.”</p><p>The Captain barked out a surprised laugh, unsure of whether she was kidding or not, until he caught the sly smile curling up the corners of her lips. By the seas, he wanted to kiss her when she did that…but he extended his arm instead, as was proper for escorting a lady. He may have had an intense dislike for most nobility, but that didn’t mean he was an uncultured barbarian. “<em>That</em> I can provide, milady.”</p><p>She took his arm with a quiet chuckle. “Lead on, my good Captain. Shall we see how undiplomatic we can be?”</p><p>Despite his intentions, his thoughts betrayed him as he walked alongside her…<em> was that an innocent tease or a promise?</em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have to give kudos to icefireSpirit_Wolf who has no idea who I am or how much inspiration I get from their amazing epic, ongoing Storm/Tempest storyline, "It's All for Naut." &lt;3</p><p>Title is from the chorus of 'Reminiscing" by Little River Band, circa 1978. It's not one that's on my playlist and not really a favorite song, but it popped into my head when I was finishing this chapter, and now it's stuck there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Slow Rush to Disaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ruminations and experiences, past and present (Kurt and Constantin)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note to self: Do not rush through a post at 1:00 a.m. just because you think you should. Rewrote a chunk of the tavern scene in the middle, and learned that lesson for next time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The very next day, she’d picked up a stray on the steps of the governor’s palace, and again, Kurt was impressed at how easily she was able to talk people out of prickly situations and into their good graces. The glowing approval from her cousin and the quick friendships she forged with the suspicious natives as they made their rounds simply made his head spin. She had a reputation on the continent for having a silver tongue, but it was still awe-inspiring to watch the results in the real world.</p><p>It had barely been a week, and over their evening campfire, Emelie comforted Siora as she wept openly over the loss of her mother. They had finally found and reclaimed her body from the Alliance after much frustration and run-around. He glanced at Vasco over the firelight, who merely shrugged in return, so instead of interrupting, the pair quietly got up and made their way to their respective tents.</p><p>They could both still hear their Legate’s soft words, telling Siora about her own mother, the loss and pain she’d felt at leaving her to die alone while she was half a world away, about the regret and agony of never being able to say a truly final farewell. Somehow, she worked her magic on an inconsolable native, who started calling her <em>carants</em> afterwards.</p><p>Over the next month, she picked up an Alliance scientist and, much more reluctantly, a Bishop who foisted himself on their group without providing Emelie an opening to politely decline. The group started travelling together…although they occasionally split to perform errands more quickly, or when it seemed inappropriate to have one or the other included in a delicate negotiation.</p><p>She never took Siora into the major cities except for New Serene, sparing her from San Matheus’ aggressive suspicion or Hikmet’s open hostility, even while she worked on artfully challenging their prejudices and championing the islanders from within. The beautiful mark on her jaw that she had been mocked and teased about on the continent had been the key that made the natives stop and listen to a <em>renaigse.</em> They called her…<em>what was it?</em>… <em>‘on ol menowi</em>,’ and entire clans considered her ‘<em>carants’… </em>trusted friend.</p><p>She also never took Petrus or Aphra to the capital cities of their sworn enemies. She was there to maintain diplomacy and trade between them and New Serene…she wasn’t there to negotiate peace between the continental nations. So instead of marching into each others’ cities and flaunting them as allies, she kept them skillfully out of the way of decades-old hatreds. Surprisingly, the two ‘enemies’  in their little group had formed a bond and spent many an evening comparing doctrines and discussing discoveries and philosophy.</p><p>Emelie was friendly to everyone, but she still distanced herself from most... and Kurt had always been able to tell when her friendliness and coy, flirting demeanor had a polite distance to it. Her close friends were not blind spots, by any means…she was delighted with Aphra’s enthusiasm for discovery and her openness to the native way-of-life, but didn’t like the scholar’s deeply ingrained methods. She flatly refused the request to sneak after a group of natives just so they could learn a secret, preferring to openly ask permission, explaining what they were hoping to learn and why…and eventually, the donegaid agreed to let them tag along.</p><p>But the fact that Aphra even asked her to be treacherous…especially after helping rescue the Alliance's ungrateful team of scholars from a clan of rogue natives, and those same scholars had the gall to ask why she didn’t just kill the clan members outright…made her keep Aphra at arm’s length for a while. He wondered if she was even aware that she did it, or if it was automatic self-preservation that was second-nature after years of being brushed aside by courtly distain.</p><p>Petrus was different; she looked at him as a respected member of court and a spiritual teacher rather than a friend or confidant, so it was no surprise he wasn’t included in their informal gatherings, and she never confided in him. It was a good thing as far as he was concerned, because Kurt didn't like the man at all. There was something treacherous in his kindness that made him mistrustful.</p><p>Kurt was certainly glad the Bishop wasn’t with them now. Their group had became a regular fixture in the Coin tavern whenever they were back in New Serene, and they’d been sharing complaints and swapping stories for hours. Tonight, it had slowly devolved into a game of one-upmanship of the worst experiences they'd had...which had Siora alternately confused and horrified by some of their continental traditions and misfortunes.</p><p>Constantin was having drinks with them tonight, ecstatic about being free of the palace rigors for a change. If de Courcillon knew he was here, he’d be apoplectic listening to the young governor slowly demolishing his so-far pristine reputation among the colonists in the bar. Kurt wondered if he should just drag him out by the scruff… no one would blame him and they might even buy him another drink for taking the initiative.</p><p>“And <em>then</em>, you wouldn’t believe what he said! He said…” Constantin stopped as De Sardet lifted the mug from his hand and threw back the rest of it, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she quietly burped…a sound more like a heavy, extended exhalation than a degenerate belch.</p><p>“And he said, blahblah blah blah blah, just like all the nobles at home do. Talking and saying nothing, right, cousin?” She beamed up at him and extended his empty mug. “Will you kindly order us another round to help welcome us home? We slept in cold camps on the hard ground for you far too often this time.”</p><p>Constantin looked at the mug, then at her, then around the table, finally nodding and walking to the bar, glancing back once with a befuddled expression, belatedly realizing that <em>he</em> was the Governor here, and someone else should be fetching drinks for <em>him</em>.</p><p>Kurt saw how the Legate watched her cousin as he walked away, a concerned expression quickly overtaking her smile. Even he had noticed how sickly the Governor had become over the last few trips, pale and gaunt, as if the entire weight of the island had settled on his unprepared shoulders.</p><p>“Oh, thank heaven!” Aphra sighed heavily, leaning over her own pint. “That was getting weird and uncomfortable.”</p><p>Emelie glanced toward the bar, where Constantin was haggling with the owner. “I love my cousin, but he loses all sense of shame when he drinks.”</p><p>“Only when he drinks?” Kurt suggested, sending the entire table into barely concealed snickers. They tried to gather themselves as Constantin returned, but Aphra snorted into her mug and they all broke again.</p><p>“It appears I missed the best story!” Constantin moaned, glaring at his cousin. “I blame you.”</p><p>She gave him an innocent expression over the rim of her cup, but refused to directly reply for fear of bursting into uncontrollable giggles.</p><p>“You want a good 'worst' story?" She pushed back from the table. "Okay, then… when we were little…”</p><p>“No, wait!”</p><p>“Too late, Governor,” Aphra smirked as their drinks arrived. “We <em>must </em>hear this.”</p><p>“My <em>darling</em> cousin dared me to climb the tallest tree in the apple orchards.” She picked up her mug and looked pointedly at Constantin. “This was not the highest place we’d ever scaled, or the most dangerous… but the orchards attract snakes. They don’t usually bother us if we don’t bother them, but some of them are poisonous.” She took several swallows from her ale before continuing.</p><p>Every time Constantin tried to interrupt to insert his side of the story, Kurt elbowed him again.</p><p>“So I gave in…mostly to shut him up, because he pestered me about it for a week." The cousins glared at each other before she continued. "I thought it would take five minutes at most, and he’d could go brag to his friends about how we’d bravely faced down a whole nest of snakes… except there <em>was</em> a nest in this hollow that we disturbed as we climbed up.”</p><p>Aphra sat back, wide-eyed, but Kurt and Vasco both leaned closer.</p><p>“Once we were up, they started coming out.”</p><p>“And like a <em>girl</em>, she starts screaming.” Kurt elbowed Constantin again, this time for mocking his cousin. In his experience, she was far more than a simple girl, and certainly not how her cousin implied. “Ow! Will you please <em>stop</em>?!”</p><p>“I admit it… it was like something from a nightmare to see that many…and from that high up, it looked like they were oozing straight out of the branches.” She shuddered. "I still have nightmares about it sometimes."</p><p>“Of course, when the screaming started, the guards came running, thinking we were being accosted by some villain.”</p><p>“And so did your father.” The cousins had stopped glaring at each other and started telling the story in tandem, swapping back and forth between breaths. Kurt shook his head… he didn’t remember this incident, so it must have been before he’d joined them.</p><p>“Ugh! <em>Yes!</em> And then there were seemingly dozens of angry snakes, so we can’t climb down without risking a bite.”</p><p>“The Prince was yelling at everyone, and the guards and servants were all trying to figure out how to get us down or kill the snakes without hurting us in the process. Someone suggested an ax, but no one wanted to be responsible when the tree fell and we were still in it.”</p><p>“All the servants were running around in a complete panic, which was making Father yell even more, which made them even more frantic. And <em>she</em>…” Nudging Emelie, “…finally stops screaming because watching the chaos below was much more interesting."</p><p>"That was <em>you</em>, Constantin. I was on the verge of passing out."</p><p>“How did they finally get the two of you down?” Vasco was enthralled…he’d been holding his glass halfway to his lips for several minutes, listening instead of drinking.</p><p>“I pushed Constantin out of the tree.”</p><p>The pair grinned at each other at the horrified expressions around them, clinking their mugs together and drained the last of their ale in tandem.</p><p>“You didn’t!”</p><p>“Oh, she did. Just looked at me, then shoved. I hit every branch on the way down.”</p><p>“<em>Every</em> branch.”</p><p>“Broke my arm in two places on the way. Then, pretty as you please, she scooted out as far as she could from the trunk and the snakes…then just let herself down, limb by limb. Didn’t get a scratch on her.”</p><p>“And even injured, <em>he</em> was almost the one who got in trouble for us being up there in the first place.”</p><p>“Zero sympathy from the father figure… but she talked him out of it.”</p><p>“How??”</p><p>“I don’t know! I was in pain!”</p><p>"I apologized profusely, and said I was only thinking of myself."</p><p>"Father refused to believe she could be a homicidal maniac."</p><p>Kurt blinked. “Why did you push him instead of helping him down?”</p><p>“Honestly? Because I was angry that he'd gotten us into it in the first place. And faced with the snakes or his father…”</p><p>“I’d rather have faced the snakes.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t have made it down without getting bit…intentionally. For spite. So I took away his option."</p><p>"Weren't you angry at her, Governor? She could have killed you." Aphra was still shocked at the callousness of the act.</p><p>"No...she saved me from having to deal with Father's wrath, and a broken bone earned extra dessert from the kitchen staff for more than a month. I'd say I came out with the better deal."</p><p>"He really did."</p><p>"The two of you are terrifying together." Vasco drained his mug, slamming it back on the table with a shake of his head.</p><p>"Oh, you have <em>no</em> idea. That wasn't even close to being the end."</p><p>Kurt smiled grimly and sat back in his chair, looking into his glass. His shy little excellency had risked her own cousin’s life to try to save him from his father’s wrath and his own stubbornness, and hadn't thought twice about what would have happened if she'd killed him in the process. That was insane…and lucky…and horrible...and breathtaking. And she told the story without a blush of remorse.</p><p>Kurt found himself wanting more of his vicious, surprising little noble… so <em>very</em> much more. He was determined to finally say something to her in the morning, when he could get her away from the others.</p><p>_____________</p><p>They stumbled out of the tavern close to dawn, leaning on each other for support. Siora, who had only sipped at one drink before pushing it away, rolled her eyes at the group and made her way back to the residence with Aphra in tow. The young scientist glanced over her shoulder before they disappeared down the darkened street, wiggling her fingers in a tipsy wave farewell. “Niiiiiiiiight.”</p><p>Constantin smirked and waggled his fingers in return, but his eyes were all for the tall islander as the pair retreated. He slung an arm around Kurt’s shoulders, giving a soft, appreciative whistle. “I do so love this place. So exotic…”</p><p>“I think you’re not the only one infatuated with the exotic.” He nodded toward the sailor and the Legate, scowling. The mismatched pair were having an intense discussion…or rather, Emelie was talking intently and Vasco was listening with an atypically surprised expression on his face.</p><p>They’d both had way too much to drink…which wasn’t unusual for the young prince, but was definitely out of the norm for his cousin. Of course, she had mostly imbibed to prevent him from drinking even more than he had, so maybe that was a little bit his fault. Only a little.</p><p>“Aww, Kurt… don’t be jealous. She adores you! Emmie’s had a crush on you since you first darkened our door.”</p><p>Emelie grabbed the Naut by his coat lapels and dragged him forward another step, nearly pulling him off his feet. Whatever she said to him made him draw back, dumbfounded, and she gave him a wolfish grin before letting him go and turning gracefully on her heel. Before she’d gone far, she dropped one of her gloves behind her…everything about the gesture said it was entirely intentional, and she didn’t stop or look back after.</p><p>“Then again…”</p><p>“You’re not helping.” The Coin Captain growled and shoved away from his governor’s grasp, glowering at the Naut as he hastened in the direction of the barracks rather than returning with them to the palace or the residence as planned.</p><p>Nonplussed, Constantin swayed toward the Naut, who had wavered as he stooped to pick up the glove and was now staring blankly down the street where the Legate had vanished.</p><p>“You look confusssed, my dear Captain.” Intentionally mispronouncing, he grinned at the Naut, giving him a hard clap on the back.</p><p>“She said…” But he didn’t continue, glancing down at the glove again. The soft leather was shaped perfectly to her hand with wear and decorated with a bright scarlet silk on the inside, the same material ringing the wrist…an accessory entirely befitting a ranking noble.</p><p>“Yes, yes, whatever it was, she does tend to be quite the conundrum, doesn’t she?” Still grinning and very pleasantly drunk, he leaned in close like he was about to impart a secret…but didn’t lower his volume at all. “You know, old man, there is quite the custom in old Serene…if a woman drops a glove in front of a fellow, it means she’s quite taken with him, and it gives him an excuse to politely come calling.”</p><p>“I’m the same age as you are. And I’ve heard of it. Some old fashioned flirtation that you nobles thinks is quaint.”</p><p>“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you sound insulted, good man!”</p><p>The captain grunted, but he was still clutching the glove in his hand.</p><p>“If it is <em>any</em> consolation at all… in all of our years of the flings and flirtations of youth...she has never, <em>ever</em>, dropped a glove for <em>anyone</em>.”</p><p>Vasco blinked at him. “Yes…but…she’s been drinking. Quite a bit.”</p><p>“Not <em>once</em>…even after a long night of imbibing that I caused. <em>You</em>, my dear Captain, have captured her attention. If I was a worse man, and she wasn’t my dearest cousin, I’d say I was jealous.”</p><p>Though he found that he was jealous, regardless. The Coin Captain certainly was, if his angered reaction was any indication.</p><p>Constantin clapped Vasco on the shoulder. “All I can say now is good luck!” The chuckle that he left the captain with faded the moment he had turned around, his scowl nearly matching his master-at-arms’ expression earlier. He didn't mean good luck with his dear Emelie... it was for good luck facing down the wrath of the Coin Guard if he succeeded in his flirtations.</p><p>It wasn’t that she was infinitely picky or had any ridiculously high standards that were impossible to meet like many other women in the court. It was a deep-seated fear of being taken advantage of by someone who merely wanted a higher status and had no real interest in her or what she wanted. Flings were one thing, but that fear made it nearly impossible to trust anyone who came with an intent to marry her before a proper courtship had even begun. </p><p>He couldn’t deny that the Naut Captain was a safe choice. There were no pretenses between them, nothing either of them wanted or needed from each other...outside of their unsettling natural closeness. But this time, Constantin was afraid that he might actually lose her. Granted, it was to someone who had a well-respected rank among his own people, but the Captain did not have royal lineage or any advantageous prospects. No other titles, no land, no courtly contacts, always at sea… he was not good enough for his dearest cousin by a long shot.</p><p>And of course Kurt would never be her equal either, even though she had once confided her childish crush to Constantin as they whispered together late into the night…it had been the first time she’d unknowingly broken his heart.</p><p>But truth be told, no one else was ever going to be good enough for dear Emelie…because it wasn’t <em>him</em>.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Confessions and (Mis)understandings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sleep deprivation, secrets, and unfortunate disagreements.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for your patience in getting this chapter posted! Life got crazy, but comments kept me going! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Emelie, how long has it been since you properly slept?”</p><p>De Sardet blinked at Aphra from behind her desk where she’d just finished yet another long, detailed letter to one emissary or another. She almost rubbed her eyes, but stopped short as she noticed the fresh ink staining her fingertips and thought better of it.</p><p>“Yesterday?”</p><p>Aphra crossed her arms, scowling at the Legate with a disbelieving stare. “Mmmhm. How long?”</p><p>“I don’t know… a few hours. Enough.”</p><p>“That’s what we thought.”</p><p>“We?”</p><p>On cue, Siora emerged from the hallway with a beautifully painted bottle and three delicately handmade cups. “Yes, <em>carants</em>. <em>We</em> are going to sit by the fire and relax. Then you are going to sleep.”</p><p>Nodding, the scholar added her agreement with the suggestion…as if they hadn’t already discussed this out of concern for their friend, but her tone stayed light and teasing. “<em>Even</em> if one of us has drug your drink to do it.”</p><p>“But, I have…”</p><p>“Too much to do. So you always say. Nothing is burning. No one is dying. Messengers are not beating on the door with urgent news. You need to rest before you fall over in the middle of a negotiation.” Aphra gave her a look which said there was not going to be a debate. The Legate finally sighed, setting her pen aside and capping the ink bottle.</p><p>“Let me go wash up, at least?” Showing them her fingers. “Much to my former tutors’ dismay, I am a sloppy writer, and I’ll not have the servants scrubbing my fingerprints from every surface in the house.”</p><p>When she came back downstairs, much to the scholar’s surprise, she had not only washed up, but stripped out of her boots, belt and hose, her long white shirt billowing free around her trousers. Bare feet padded softly on the wooden floor, and she fell into one of the big chairs in front of the cheerily crackling fire. Bread and fruit had been arranged on the small table and Siora immediately pressed a cup into her hand.</p><p>Emelie sniffed it suspiciously, and glanced up to the native. “It smells like mead.” Taking a sip, she nodded, “Tastes like mead, but there’s something else… flowery?”</p><p>“I don’t know ‘mead.’ This is made with honey and spices.”</p><p>Aphra and Emelie glanced at each other with a grin, both speaking at once as they reached across the side-table to clink their cups together. “Mead!”</p><p>Siora sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor. Aphra felt for the islanders’ frustration and gave her a lighter smile. “We have a similar drink on the continent…along with our ales and much stronger brews.”</p><p>“But this is by far the best I’ve had. It’s…pure.” Emelie stared into the cup, honestly admiring the island version of the drink.</p><p>The scientist nodded in agreement, and watched for a moment as their fearless leader slowly started to relax her posture. Emelie misread her look and rolled her eyes.</p><p>“I’ll sleep!”</p><p>“I don’t believe you actually will. What’s been so heavy on your mind?”</p><p>She swirled her drink in her hand for a while, considering. “Nothing we say goes beyond these walls.”</p><p>“Who would we tell?”</p><p>“I’m worried about my cousin.”</p><p>“Speaking honestly? He’s a <em>mess</em>.” There was a great deal the scholar didn’t like about the Governor. He was brash and impatient, and acted as if he only listened to his cousin. She’d caught him several times watching the Legate with an expression that was anything but innocent…but she didn’t think Emelie noticed it….or was so used to it that it simply didn’t raise a flag with her. But she’d seen him leering at Siora, who was also oblivious to it. Maybe it was his playboy nature as Emelie had once told them, but to Aphra it was creepy and did nothing to endear him to her.</p><p>“Well… yes, but I mean his health. He looks like he’s not sleeping, either. Or eating. Or taking care of himself beyond what the servants are instructed to do for him.”</p><p>“Leadership trial by fire.”</p><p>“I’m sure that’s part of the reason my uncle put him in charge here. Provide him experience with running a city before he has to take over an entire country.”</p><p>“He will become King on your continent?” Siora looked uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe she <em>had</em> noticed him leering at her.</p><p>“Sort of…” Emelie paused to take a sip. “He is the Prince’s only living son, so he’ll inherit his father’s lands, titles, and responsibilities…whether he wants it or not.”</p><p>“Inherit? Is he not elected by the clans?”</p><p>“It doesn’t work that way. You are born to it. Or you front a successful coup d’etat. Or simply assassinate the current ruler.”</p><p>“And sit back to watch the chaos ensue.” Aphra added.</p><p>“But your Governors <em>here</em> were elected.”</p><p>“Mmm… more ‘selected’ by their nation’s rulers.”</p><p>“And you will both go back to your home when he inherits?”</p><p>“I…don’t know. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I suppose I will if I’m summoned back, otherwise… I like it here. It feels more like home than the palace ever did. No one mocks me for my birthmark. It’s a mark of reverence, not of ridicule…you don’t know how incredible that is.”</p><p>“I still do not see how your mother or father was not of our clans. Only children of a donegada bear the mark.”</p><p>She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, her mother’s death still a fresh wound even after months on the island. “They were the least native people you could ever meet.”</p><p>Aphra noted her frown and changed the subject slightly. “If you go back to the continent, where does that leave your sweet Captain?”</p><p>“My <em>what</em>? Kurt? Oh, no no no! He put an end to those childish notions when we were still… well…children.”</p><p>“He <em>wasn’t</em> who I meant… but that must have been one crushing rejection if you don’t notice the way he watches you.”</p><p>“<em>You</em> are seeing things. He’s our master-at-arms…a brother and a friend. That’s all.”</p><p>“I swear I’m not. It’s almost painful to watch.”</p><p>She gave a questioning look to Siora, and the scholar was starting to regret bringing up the topic. “You’ve seen this, too?”</p><p>“I have only seen you and your <em>Moridegen</em>. I would say he is the one who has your heart.”</p><p>De Sardet blushed. “My what?”</p><p>“Isn’t that what those two lovers called each other? Mooreee…?” The scholar was starting to feel the effects of the native drink, and it was lovely.</p><p>“No, no. That is <em>minudhanem</em>… soulmates. <em>Moridegen</em> is our word for your Nauts.”</p><p>Emelie blushed even more deeply, curling up tighter in her chair. “Is it that obvious?”</p><p>Aphra gave her a sly smile that turned approving. “The way the two of you sneak looks when the other isn't? You may fool a casual observer, but we’re your friends.”</p><p>Emelie tried to hide her blush behind her cup. “We haven’t…”</p><p>Aphra shook her head and pointed at the Legate. “No. <em>No</em>. Don’t <em>even</em> try to deny it. The pair of you are just itching for a chance to bed again. I don’t know when you managed before, but those are <em>not</em> the looks you give a man you haven’t even kissed.”</p><p>“Hardly. We’ve barely had any time alone since we docked.”</p><p>The scholar gave her a shocked look. “On the <em>voyage</em>?” She held out her cup in a toast to the audacity and was pleased that Emelie clicked their cups together. “You <em>never</em> cease to amaze me, my friend. But why were you working tonight instead of spending time with your dashing Captain?”</p><p>“I was b…”</p><p>Aphra could tell she was about to say ‘busy,’ but had finally realized how it sounded. She watched as Emelie placed her cup on the table, and rose silently from her chair, hiding her disappointment at herself with formality.</p><p>“Thank you for the mead, Siora. I’ll take your advice and get some sleep. We’re leaving for Cwenvar tomorrow afternoon.”</p><p> </p><p>____________</p><p>With their departure approaching, Aphra sat by the fire checking their traveling gear, while Emelie hurriedly wrote missives and signed documents. She could hear the Legate impatiently blowing on the ink to dry it, a dozen other pages scattered across her desk to dry among the litter of crumpled, smeared pages and drifts of pounce.</p><p>The scholar tried not to smirk at the mess she was making…the woman truly needed to hire a scribe. Her handwriting was lovely and crisp, but the desk around her papers always looked as if an ink grenade had gone off, and invariably, there was always at least one inky fingerprint on the parchment. Aphra told her once to think of the fingerprints as her personal seal on each document…which had earned a crumpled page thrown in her direction.</p><p>A crash and a series of shouts outside the residence made her startle, her pen trailing a thick line of ink across the page she’d nearly finished. Throwing her pen down with a seldom heard curse, she shoved her chair back and stood… nearly wiping her hands down the front of her corset before she caught herself and grabbed a hand towel instead. Aphra tried to hide her amused expression… until it faded naturally on hearing the angrily raised voice of Petrus outside.</p><p>“Stop this at once!”</p><p>The women exchanged looks and hurried to the front door, flinging it open. Two guards were holding a struggling, bleeding Kurt, while Petrus had both his hands on a very bruised Vasco’s shoulders to keep him at bay. Both of the Captains were glaring daggers at each other, looking for another opportunity to strike. But when the door to the residence swung open, all struggles ceased as their guilty looks went to their Legate. Petrus stepped back and the guards released their Captain, snapping to attention.</p><p>Kurt took the moment of distraction to sucker punch the Naut, taking satisfaction in hearing the man’s teeth click painfully together as he staggered back. Realizing their failure too late, the guards grabbed their captain and hauled him backwards, away from the Naut, while Petrus stepped between them again.</p><p>“<em>What</em> in the name of the Enlightened is going on?!”</p><p>Both of the Captains looked at each other as if they were going to point at the other and say ‘he started it.’ Kurt shrugged out of the grasp of the guards, running the back of his hand under his bleeding and broken nose, while Vasco stood his ground, one eye already swelling shut and blood dripping from between his lips from biting his tongue. His hat was nowhere to be found, and his hair had pulled out of its tie, hanging half in his face.</p><p>Emelie put her hands on her hips and stared down both of the much larger men. They shrank back, and even the guards who had tried to stop the fight took a nervous step away from the Legate’s visible fury.</p><p>“Do either of you want to explain?” She strode slowly down the steps toward them, but both captains remained silent. “No?? Which means this is something stupid and petty.” She inhaled deeply as if she was trying to draw strength before speaking again…but stopped, her head cocking to the side and she closed her eyes. “Have you…?” She inhaled again. “Have you <em>both</em> been drinking? Already? It’s not even eight of the morning!”</p><p>Petrus cleared his throat. “In all honestly, my child, I believe it’s not ‘already’ as much as ‘still.’”</p><p>Giving an irritated glance to Petrus, she turned her anger back to the pair. “You’ve been drinking since last night? Together?”</p><p>Vasco glanced heavenward and nodded, slurring out, “Settlin’ our diff’rences.”</p><p>“I see that worked well.”</p><p>Both of them snorted a chuckle, glanced at each other and collapsed into laughter.</p><p>Emelie threw her hands up in the air. “Go home. Both of you. Sleep it off. I’ll be back next week…maybe you can be adults by then.” Turning to the guards, she pointed at them. “If those two go at it again, throw them both in jail until I return. In irons! And <em>yes</em>, that is a direct order.” They blinked at the command, but quickly nodded.</p><p>Kurt started to protest, and Aphra noted the disappointment and frustration in both men’s hang-dog expressions. “But…”</p><p>“Go. HOME.” De Sardet turned on her heel and marched up the steps, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the ambassadorial insignia above it. But even Aphra and Petrus winced when the sound of the locking bolt being thrown followed immediately after.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Truth Hurts More Than Fiction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What happens when hopes become reality...and what happens when what a person wants is only wishful thinking.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Vasco...why didn’t you tell your brother who you were?”</p><p>The question surprised him, but she had an infinite ability to do just that. Take now, for example, her head resting on his shoulder, the taste of her lips still fresh on his tongue, bodies barely cooled from the tangle they had made of the bedclothes.</p><p>“But I did.”</p><p>She considered his answer for a time as she traced the ink on his chest with a fingertip, silent for so long that he was certain she was going to change the subject entirely. “And what did <em>you</em> think of him?”</p><p>He sighed. It was a loaded question… not a trick or a trap, but there was a tone of ‘I told you so,’ lingering beneath her words. It was more likely she meant it just as she asked it, and it was his own doubts and long-burning frustration that colored how he heard it. But after weeks of listening to her talk governors and chieftains into and out of impossible requests, it was hard not to read additional layers into every word she uttered.</p><p>“Honestly? He was an intolerable ass, and we should have left him to be strung up by those debt collectors.”</p><p>She huffed out a surprised laugh at his response, obviously not at all what she expected him to say. Raising her head, she gave him an amused look. “Truly?”</p><p>“Aye…and I think that if I had been in that life, I would have been the spoiled disappointment to my long-suffering family. <em>And</em> would never have crossed paths with you, my tempest.”</p><p>“I don’t think you have it in you to be a spoiled, intolerable ass.” With a soft chuckle, she pressed her lips to his chest, then rested her chin on her hand so she could watch him more closely. She was mesmerized by his tattoos, and he had already teased her that it was the only reason she was attracted to him.</p><p>Fortunately, it wasn’t the truth; she never looked at him the way so many others did, as if he was a wild, untamed beast that could turn feral at any moment. She looked at him as though she was reading every line of ink like a favorite book, endlessly fascinated by the story. She looked at him for <em>him</em>, and it sent an ache through his chest that anyone could feel that way about him…especially a woman like her. She was so far beyond his world that he had a hard time coming to terms that he would ever be anything more to her than a short-lived affair, much like their tryst on his ship…a desperate coupling that should have ended as soon as they’d dressed and parted ways that night.</p><p>He’d found afterwards that he was the one who couldn’t let it go, especially when he caught her watching him. She would smile at him as if she knew he was undressing her in his mind before slowly and deliberately looking away, tempting, teasing, and inviting him without words. She’d never changed how she treated him, even after they’d docked, and like a fool, it had taken him this long to see it. She was always kind, always there for him, always gifting him with some small token of her affection and friendship. That she waited for him to get over himself and come to her was astonishing to him…even if she’d resorted to practically slapping him with her glove for him to see it.</p><p>He’d brought it back to her the following afternoon, and the look she had given him was the same one she’d had in the crow’s nest…and the same one she’d worn when she grabbed him by the collar called him a blind fool the night before in front of the pub. With the realization that her desires matched his, he’d very nearly given in to a primal urge to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder to march upstairs and make love to her until neither of them could walk. He’d stepped closer for a mutually clinging embrace and a testing brush of their lips that quickly turned into a devouring kiss…interrupted almost as soon as it had begun by a messenger from the Coin Guard.</p><p>They’d been on one errand or other since she’d returned from her week’s escape with the others, trying to hunt down a missing trainee for Kurt, and…though he’d felt guilty for even asking, as angry as she’d been when she left…finding his own birth family. He fully expected the silent treatment from her afterwards, considering how he’d asked her to break into several offices, run halfway across the island, and potentially undermine more than a few alliances in order to learn what he wanted... what he <em>needed</em> to know even more desperately since that night. Even with her in his arms now, he felt entirely unworthy of that generosity, much less the adoration she graced him with.</p><p>When they’d finally returned to New Serene after the last diplomatic upheaval was rectified, they were all physically and mentally stretched thin, and over Constantin’s weak protest…the young Governor was looking in worse heath every time they saw him…she insisted they be allowed to take a day to recover. The group had parted ways at the steps of the palace, half of them heading towards the pub, the rest dispersing to the market district. Vasco had reluctantly started to bid her farewell, intending to repair equipment then catch up with his old crew at the docks, but she had asked so sweetly to discuss the Admiral’s latest request over dinner at the residence.</p><p>The moment the door was closed behind them, there was no more business or duty or problems or survival…there was only the two of them, servants and the aforementioned ‘dinner’ ignored. She shoved him backwards against the door with surprising force and raised to her toes, pressing a heated kiss to his lips that left no doubt about her feelings or intentions.</p><p>He still wasn’t quite certain how they’d made it up the stairs.</p><p>She brought him back to the present as she spoke again, answering his unasked question. “As nobility, we would have been thrown at each other at some point. The D’Arcy’s would have certainly petitioned the Prince for an opportunity to wed their eldest son to such a respected house. They likely tried with your brother, but if his reputation already was an issue, the Prince would have rejected it outright, and I would never have heard about it.”</p><p>He chuckled, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “And what would you have said to a wealthy, arrogant, and desperate fop named Leandre, come to beg for your hand in arranged marriage?”</p><p>She hummed thoughtfully, a teasing smile playing across her lips. “That he might be fine for a clandestine romp or two, but the venerable Lady De Sardet would rather fling herself at a tattooed Naut than to <em>ever</em> consider a permanent union with such an irresponsible snob.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>really</em>?”</p><p>Her teasing expression erupted into a shriek of laughter as he rolled them both over, his body covering hers, pinning her wrists above her head, noses almost touching. His voice was a quiet growl. “You would rather be ravished by an untrustworthy…” kissing her chin, “…dastardly…” another soft kiss graced the corner of her mouth, “…scoundrel…” a peck to the delicate curve of her jaw where her birthmark started, “…<em>Naut..</em>.” He brushed his lips over hers, just barely touching. “…than by a fair and decadently wealthy noble?”</p><p>Legs parting to welcome his body’s heated press against hers, she breathed out, “If it’s to be by my handsome, roguish Captain Vasco… then my answer will <em>always</em> be ‘yes.’”</p><p>Part of him was still convinced this would end in heartbreak the moment he returned to the seas… but damn him if he hadn’t already fallen completely in love with her anyway.</p><p>___________</p><p>Even though Kurt had promised himself that he would speak to Emelie the next day, more pressing matters had always intruded, and it hadn’t helped that after the unfortunate disagreement with the Naut, Emelie had done exactly as she promised and left the two of them behind for the week, traveling with Petrus, Siora, and Aphra to settle disputes between the clans and various missionary groups.</p><p>When they’d returned, she had cooled off enough to ask him to join her for a drink…but the first thing she asked him was why.</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why do the two of you antagonize each other so? I’d think you would  have enough in common to have a civil conversation, at least.”</p><p>“Maybe we have too much in common, and it’s irritating to sit and talk with oneself.”</p><p>“I’m sensing there’s some jealousy between the two of you, Kurt, and it’s not a good look on either of you.”</p><p>“He looks down on everyone like the noble he isn't, and he whines like a child.” He took a long drink to hide that he’d nearly flinched at her insight…not that he’d admit to being jealous of anyone, but the attention she bestowed on the seafarer was more than the arrogant bastard deserved. Knowing her as he did, it couldn’t be more than a temporary infatuation on her part, but it still rankled. He didn’t regret punching the Naut, even if it had resulted in a humiliating time-out. The only regret was that he hadn’t managed to add a scar to those flawless good looks…or maybe knocked out a few teeth for good measure.</p><p>She gave him a thoughtful look. “I believe we’re talking about two different people. He’s never been anything but kind and is highly respected by his crew. I doubt they’d follow a whiner for long…or that anyone who complained as much as you claim would ever make Captain.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Excellency, but we’re never going to be friends…if that’s what you’re trying to accomplish.”</p><p>Silently admitting defeat, she’d rolled her eyes and bought him another ale before leaving him to his own devices. He’d pondered on her words for a long time after, drinking the night away to try to relieve his dour mood. He let his emotions control him, and had been petty and petulant with her as a result…and not just tonight. He’d done it far too often lately for his own liking, and now wondered if it had driven another wedge between them. He had to remind himself to be patient, because the Naut was going to remain a thorn in his side… at least until their Admiral gave him a new ship and crew so he would finally be out of their lives forever. That day couldn’t come soon enough.</p><p>He’d always claimed to be was above stupid emotions that would only get in the way of his duty. Love certainly wasn’t supposed to be in the cards… but his sweet excellency had simply bloomed since they’d left Serene, confident and sure in a way that didn’t feel like she was putting on a fake persona for it. She certainly wasn’t the pale and quiet girl that he’d unsympathetically rebuked when he finally noticed her infatuation for him. He’d felt guilty for the first week when she’d shown up to training looking like she hadn’t slept for crying all night. Even without the almost brotherly connection he had developed with the cousins, it was still heartbreaking, and more than once, he’d nearly apologized…but he kept telling himself that it was for her own good….and for his.</p><p>He thought he’d forever ruined any chance with her after that…which had been his intent at the time, because he had to stop himself from feeling the same way about her. It hadn’t entirely worked. She’d unintentionally started a spark that he’d been unable to completely put out. The friendship and trust they’d formed took time to redevelop, but it always felt like it could have been more if it wasn’t for the unspoken class rules marking an impossible chasm between nobility and the hired help.</p><p>Knowing he needed to make up for being abrupt…not that she wasn’t used to it by now…but he had far more he wanted to say to her that he was going to struggle putting into words. Discussing feelings wasn’t in his repertoire, and he doubted she’d respond well to him simply showing up at her door and kissing her like he’d wanted to since the moment Serene was no longer visible on the horizon. If he hadn’t been such a coward, he might have been with her, and she would never have developed that odd friendship with the tattooed Captain.</p><p>When she’d left the two of them alone in town after her tantrum, he’d gone to the blacksmith and ordered a new knife for her…as both an apology and hopefully more…a deadly sharp, blackened steel blade with delicate scrollwork engraved into the hilt and guard. It wasn’t ready when she’d returned, but there was always something to keep them busy in the meantime. While he appreciated that she tried to help him find his missing recruit, he didn’t really care one way or the other…recruits came and went, died in combat or training, or went AWOL all the time. It was a delaying tactic, nothing more.</p><p>He didn’t knock at the door of the residence…it was open to all of them, after all, and several of their ensemble had taken rooms there instead of at the inn. Peering into the sitting room, he found it oddly empty and quiet, the only sound was the distant clatter of pots and pans as the servants prepared dinner in the kitchen.</p><p>He debated whether he should wait for her or come back later…although he hated the thought of sitting in the study with a gift held delicately on his knees like some besotted suitor...when he heard the shriek from upstairs.</p><p>Taking the stairs two at a time, one hand was already on the hilt of his sword as he reached her door. But as his hand wrapped around the doorknob and it parted slightly, he froze, hearing the whiskey-smooth voice of that blasted Naut…and he would have <em>still</em> shoved his way inside, ready to cleave a sword through the arrogant sailor for daring to hurt her…but as he moved to enter, he saw them together...heard her moan in a way that he’d only ever fantasized about hearing…and it felt like all the breath had been knocked out of his chest.</p><p>It had been a lovely dream….but despite his desperate and impossible hope, deep in his heart he’d always known it was just that. It wasn’t as if she was rubbing his nose in it…the pair was so engrossed in each other that they couldn’t know he was standing at their door, heart breaking yet again as this <em>imposter, intruder, interloper</em> was the one she was wrapped around, making those deliciously decadent sounds for.</p><p>He’d stood there too long like a voyeur, hand gripping the blade at his side hard enough for the pommel to bite through his gloves, and with teeth clenched, he softly closed the door and backed down the stairs. He wasn’t going to throw the door open to interrupt them in a righteous rage or stomp down the stairs to show his anger at a distance. It was petty and beneath him<em>… just like she was beneath the Captain right now</em>. That thought pushed him over the edge, and with a growl, he flung the sheath away from his gifted blade and buried it in the front door with a heavy *thunk* before yanking it open to leave this awful place.</p><p>A surprised Aphra and Siora hovered in the entry, the scholar frozen in a reach for the door as it was thrown open. He shoved past them with a muttered, “The Legate is <em>busy</em>.” He left them staring after him, startled and confused by his temperamental snarl, most likely wondering if he and the Legate had argued over something.</p><p><em>They’ll find out soon enough, especially if she’s a screamer. </em>In frustration at his own thoughts, he knocked over a pile of crates sitting in the street, not stopping to see the contents scattering or to hear the vendor’s confused and angry shout. It didn’t make him feel better, only serving to build his self-loathing further.</p><p>Pacing the road toward the Coin barracks, he hadn’t been sure about his decisions before, torn by loyalties between two factions…but now he was deadly certain. Since desire and stupid, <em>childish</em> wants had been crushed as completely as he’d crushed hers so long ago, that left only loyalty. He knew where his belonged.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was one of those weird lead-ups in the game where the story felt like it lost its way. The whole thing with finding Kurt's recruit was a great side story, but when it became a turning point in the main quest, it just felt like a really odd loyalty test, thus has been relegated to a minor mention in this chapter.</p><p>As always, thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Liar, Liar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The worst bad day in the history of ever: or, how can one person be expected to deal with all this sh*t?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is super spoilery if you haven't played a version where Kurt's loyalty mission isn't completed prior to the coup. This happened in my very first playthrough, and I was just *gutted* by the end of the scene. </p><p>Some of the dialogue is directly from the game.</p><p>Warning: Violence, emotional turmoil, more violence, canonical character death.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vasco gave a quick salute to the Admiral and hastened to catch up to Emelie. He desperately needed words of wisdom that the Bishop was far too up the Enlightened’s ass to honestly impart. In Petrus’ favor, though, he’d given the Legate a heartfelt embrace that she seemed to genuinely appreciate in spite of her distress.</p><p>This was so far outside of his experience that the Naut didn’t know what to say to comfort her…his own thoughts and feelings were too at war with each other, and he was afraid he’d say exactly the wrong thing if he spoke at all.</p><p>He’d always known he was Sea-Given, that he had come from a family outside of the Nauts rather than being born to it. Even though the lack of details had been constant source of frustration, he could still say no one had outright lied about his origins.</p><p>Her entire life had just been exposed as a fabrication.</p><p>Where she had patiently guided him through his own crisis of identity…which now seemed foolish and selfish….he had no idea how to help her come to terms with being lied to for her entire life by her own ‘loving’ family. She had to know that it didn’t actually change who she was…didn’t she? She would still be Emelie, still be the Legate…that wouldn’t be taken away, would it? The Prince knew her secret…was the one who had initiated it, after all… so her position wasn’t likely to change. It seemed logical that she would be the one to determine where she wanted to belong.</p><p>Except he had to remind himself that he’d just been in the same position, and it had haunted him for years. The difference was he knew… she just found out today that nothing was true, and she was a part of not just one, but two entirely foreign cultures…sea-born <em>and</em> island native. He couldn’t expect her to simply accept it any more than he had.</p><p>And truth be told, it was almost impossible to believe anyone could so callously steal a mother and her unborn child, not just from the island, but out from under a previously unbreakable contract. <em>All</em> children born on Naut ships belonged to the sea. An even more grievous sin in his eyes was how those same nobles so casually and callously threw around their vast coin to keep it a secret for decades after. He couldn’t begin to fathom the depths of influence and favors required for someone’s entire life to be so shrouded. How was it possible no one let it slip even once?</p><p>Rounding the corner, he caught up to her…but when he touched her shoulder, she stopped like she’d woken up from sleepwalking, turning to him with motions that were slow and sluggish. There was absolutely nothing in her eyes and the dazed, unfocused look sent a jolt of fear through him.</p><p>“Emelie? Tempest…please say something.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to say anymore.” The flatness in her tone made him pull her into his arms, holding her until he finally felt her posture loosen and she leaned into him. “Please just… let’s go home. I need to be somewhere safe.”</p><p>Nodding, he kissed her gently on the top of her head. He wanted to say so much…let her know that nothing had changed for him, and he knew exactly who she was…no titles or names or heritage made a difference…but was that entirely true? Would he have been so enamored of her if she’d come on board his ship as an islander or as a fellow Naut?</p><p>But he also suspected that anything he said would be of little comfort, so he stayed silent as he took her hand and looped it through the crook of his arm. She gave him a tired smile that was shockingly absent from her eyes and let him lead her to the house, dazed enough that he wasn’t certain if she would have found her way back to the residence on her own.</p><p>Despite his worry, there was part of him that couldn’t help but selfishly rejoice in the news … she was a <em>Naut!</em> By birth she belonged to the sea…<em>nothing</em> stood in their way. No titles or classes or prejudices. Of course, none of that had mattered to her before. She wasn’t put off by his tattoos or his rougher nature even when they hadn’t known he’d come from noble blood… she loved him for <em>who</em> he was, not <em>what</em> he was, long before he was comfortable with it himself. But when the Admiral had admitted she was by law and by birth one of their own, he wanted to pick her up and swing her around in celebration…wanted to smother her in kisses and adoration, and for just a moment he had the crazy urge to drop to his knees and beg her to be his wife. He might have even given in if not for the pure pain in her eyes that shattered the desire to do anything except offer whatever comfort he could.</p><p>She’d been their rock, through crisis after crisis, solid and steadfast no matter the emotional turmoil. But the moment they’d arrived at the residence and the door was shut behind them, she leaned heavily against him and simply broke…the blank look turned into confusion and anguish as her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, sobbing and gasping. He caught her partway, easing down with her, worried at how quickly she’d gone from nothing to this meltdown, terrifying in its suddenness and intensity. Sitting next to her, he pulled her close, holding her while she voiced all of her pain in a heartwrenching wail, clutching at his coat lapels with one hand, her tears soaking into his shirt.</p><p>He sensed it wasn’t just the Admiral’s news, but <em>everything</em> since they’d arrived that she’d bottled up and shoved aside so she could deal with the next crisis. Rocking gently with her, he found himself quietly humming as she wept, hoping to soothe some of her pain with the sound of his voice and his presence when actual words were pointless. It seemed to be working, as her sobs gradually quieted to an occasional hitched breath.</p><p>Slowly extricating herself from his embrace, she wiped her face on her sleeve, looking exhausted and still overwhelmed. Gently, he helped her to her feet, guiding her up the stairs and to her room. She slumped on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor, so he knelt and pulled off her boots, then helped her shrug out of her jacket and untied the laces of her corset so she could breathe without restriction. She drew her legs up and curled into a self-protective huddle on her pillow.</p><p>He would have asked if she wanted him to stay, but she was half dozing into a drained slumber before he even finished pulling the covers over her. With a worried frown, he kissed her on the forehead and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him.</p><p>Aphra was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, an equally worried expression written on her face.</p><p>“I saw you helping her upstairs, but I didn’t want to barge in. What happened? Is she hurt?”</p><p>“Yes, but not physically.” He gestured towards the kitchens, and she followed while he plucked a bottle of brandy from the cabinets and found two glasses, sitting at the table and pouring them both a generous cup. Aphra listened in horrified fascination as Vasco told her all that they’d found out about Emelie’s true heritage.</p><p>“She had <em>all</em> that dropped on her today?”</p><p>He nodded. “The Admiral didn’t want to tell her. Not so much for breaking a promise as not wanting to hurt her so deeply.”</p><p>“Is she…?”</p><p>“Let’s just give her some time to take it in without any other interruptions or worries.” He didn’t like doing things that way…he wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her close and protected until the storm had passed. “She’s been pushing herself as it was, but this was one thing too many.”</p><p>Siora joined them soon after, and they were well into their third glass each, talking about what the news might mean and working out their own concerns…and hopes…when Emelie appeared in the doorway, still looking like she was drained of energy and emotion, but lips set in a thin, determined line.</p><p>“I need to talk to my cousin. I have to know if he’s been in on the secret all this time.”</p><p>_______________</p><p>It seemed like only moments after they’d arrived that she’d thrown them all out of the audience chambers…including him… as she sat with her cousin on the floor in the middle of the dais, holding Constantin close and murmuring words of consolation and hope as he wept…just like Vasco had been doing for her only hours before.</p><p>As they filtered out, they could all see how pale she was, so close on the heels of her own revelation. Vasco desperately wanted to be next to her as a comforting presence, but her command brooked no arguments. Not a request. An <em>order</em>. It spoke volumes of how upset she truly was.</p><p>Siora paced the hall, worry creasing her brow… the first time the native had seen the malichor in any form…but much more concerned over the terror it sparked between the cousins. Petrus was in prayer, head bowed and hands clasped together as he murmured quietly to the Enlightened, while Aphra simply leaned against the wall, frowning as her gaze flicked quickly between their little group and the nobles milling aimlessly, whispering gossip and speculation among themselves.</p><p>The Naut found himself angry at the unfairness of it…and at Kurt for not being here at all. Vasco understood the call of duty and all it entailed, but it still gave him somewhere to direct his frustration and helplessness. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen the Coin Captain at all in several days…</p><p>When a somber servant opened the doors for them again and they filtered back in, his heart nearly broke at the look in Emelie’s eyes. She stood next to her cousin, who was attempting to put on his regal façade once more…but Vasco could see how badly this was affecting her after everything else that had happened. She was committed to helping her cousin get through his crisis first…determined that her family not suffer more than necessary…and he felt another surge of anger that she was the one forced to shoulder everything. How could she stand to suffer in silence, giving comfort when she needed it just as desperately?</p><p>Vasco needed to say something that would make this better, but he knew all too well the futility. She’d already lost her mother in more ways than one…now she was going to lose her cousin, and he knew she was going to blame herself for not making the search for a cure their <em>only</em> priority. If anyone was to blame, it was them…everyone in their little group was guilty of being selfish, demanding so much of her, too busy with personal concerns and alliances and petty demands to achieve anything fruitful.</p><p>Constantin was putting on the same impenetrable front as De Sardet, looking pale and wan but once again composed. “Our esteemed cousin was just telling us of your journey. Come…tell us more about your discoveries. What of a cure?”</p><p>Aphra stepped forward, guiltily starting to offer the names of their best doctors, but jumped, startled, as the doors to the audience hall crashed open. Kurt led a row of guards behind him, and for a moment, Vasco thought he was there to arrest someone in the court. They had recently investigated a missing Coin recruit, to no resolution unfortunately. Perhaps the Guard had better luck.</p><p>Kurt stopped midway into the room, and the guards with him stood at attention. “Coin Guard! The time has come.”</p><p>Guards at the fringes of the room stepped forward in tandem, guns raised in anticipation.</p><p>“Kurt…what’s going on? What is this?” Constantin, still in his own head, leaned forward in his chair, blinking rapidly in confusion.</p><p>“Ready arms!”</p><p>“Kurt…what are you doing?” The shocked outburst came from the Legate, belatedly realizing how wrong this seemed.</p><p>“Aim!”</p><p>“Stop! Soldiers, lower your weapons now!” Constantin forced himself out of his seat, but there was too much panic in his voice to command compliance or obedience.</p><p>“Sorry, green blood.”</p><p>“How could you?” De Sardet spoke quietly as she took two brazen steps forward, placing herself directly in front of Constantin. There was no way the soldiers could shoot the governor without killing her first.</p><p>Vasco started to join her, but the room was suddenly spinning sickeningly, and he found himself on his knees, blood running down the back of his neck and soaking into his shirt collar. He couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to… the guard who had struck him dug his rifle bore into the base of his skull, ready to pull the trigger at the slightest twitch. He felt sick, vision blurring, helpless to do anything except watch.</p><p>“Fight… with honor.” She spoke quietly but clearly, her expression a careful mask but the fury in her voice an almost physical thing.</p><p>A thin smile on his lips, Kurt slowly lowered his hand and the line of guards fell back. Drawing his sword, he stood back in a ready stance, heavy blade hovering just above his shoulder. “En garde.”</p><p>“No!” Constantin stuttered out the word, but it barely came out as more than a whisper.</p><p>“I said <em>draw</em>, damn you!”</p><p>Vasco could only gape at the standoff as De Sardet drew her rapier, horrified at how useless her weapon looked compared to the Coin Guard’s… how small and fragile she suddenly seemed, facing down the physically imposing Captain.</p><p>He had always been impressed with her skill…how often she could take down an opponent despite the differences in their styles…how graceful she was as she dodged out of the way with moves that would have been ridiculously showy in anyone else. He’d once seen her backflip over a charging Ulg, a move that would have ended in instant death had it been anyone else. He’d never once questioned her choice of weapon, or how deadly she could be with only a knife and a pistol against seemingly overwhelming odds.</p><p>But here and now, cold fear gripped him. She was going to die at Kurt’s traitorous hand. It wouldn’t matter, he supposed… they would <em>all</em> be dead soon after and no one would care what their last fears and regrets might be.</p><p>Still, his heart nearly stopped when she was the one who broke the standoff, charging straight at the soldier-for-hire, ducking at the last second as the gigantic blade swung over her head. Using the polished floor tiles in a controlled skid, she braced on her fingertips to push off the floor, spinning to slash Kurt’s main sword arm, drawing first blood. If it had been practice, the fight might have been over… but this was much more deadly. He hoped she wasn’t trying to just wound rather than kill, because Kurt wouldn’t be the one to hold back.</p><p>Swearing, Kurt swung the blade again…but she didn’t have time or enough balance to get out of the way, raising her own blade to block. The force of it drove her backwards but the steel held, and she managed to guide the larger weapon’s edge away. It opened her up, and Kurt landed a kick to her stomach, staggering her back further.</p><p>Gasping for breath and not yet recovering her stride, she skipped backwards at his next charge, using the momentum to cartwheel into a solid stance once more. If it wasn’t so terrifying to helplessly watch, the unnatural grace as she danced around her opponent would have been beautiful.</p><p>Steel clashed with steel again and again, swings, misses, strikes, parries…hits and cuts and splashes of blood decorating both of their weapons… it went on long enough that both combatants were panting, taking more time between attacks for recovery. Kurt wiped sweat out of one eye with his sleeve, and she used the too brief opportunity to charge in again… she clocked him across the jaw, making him drop his guard and stumble back.</p><p>“Stop it, Kurt!” She advanced as he backed away but threw her own sword aside, getting in close under his blade before he could recover, grabbing his wrist and spinning around behind him, twisting his arm up behind his back in a savage jerk as she drew her knife with the other hand…the irony that it was the same blade that Kurt had embedded in her front door wasn’t lost on Vasco.</p><p>The Coin Captain tried to straighten and swing around, using his size against her, but she twisted his arm hard enough that joints popped, and her knife blade rested against his throat, the edge so sharp that just setting it against his skin drew a thin line of blood.</p><p>“Why, Kurt? Why betray us?”</p><p>“It was easy…you rely so heavily on our protection. You are so dependent…so <em>naïve</em>.” He almost gleefully explained their plan and how the other governors were set to fall. “Behind each of you is one of us. <em>I’ve</em> failed, but not every governor has a cousin I trained personally.”</p><p>“You… you knew about this before we ever left.” Realization hit her as if Kurt had slapped her. “You weren’t surprised there were weapons in those crates… you knew…by the Enlightened, you <em>knew</em>. That’s why you and the Commander were so desperate to get the shipment here.” Tears escaped from her eyes, but her voice remained steady, never taking her gaze off Kurt, not loosening her hold in the slightest. “You <em>lied</em> to us… all these years, talking about honor and loyalty…and you just <em>pretended</em>, didn’t you?”</p><p>“I didn’t pretend. I was just as much the fool for it.”</p><p>“You murdering traitor!” Constantin squeaked from the dais, but she shook her head just enough to warn him to stay back…and to stay quiet. The Coin Guard who weren’t holding other hostages had their rifles trained directly on De Sardet, ready to fire on command. No one else dared to breathe.</p><p>“We trusted you. We loved you like a brother<em>. I</em> loved you…I always have.”</p><p>“No…you don’t. Not like we could have been… But everyone can see plainly enough where your affection lies now, fucking a sailor at night, and pretending you’re only friends during the day.”</p><p>She flinched, startled at his bluntness, crass and over-the-line even for him. ”We...we've only been together a few days.”</p><p>He snorted out a bitter laugh. “It’s not as if <em>we</em> could have been together, regardless. I was always going to be a filthy sell-sword, no matter what I achieved. The Prince would have banished me and locked you up until a suitable alliance saw you married off. So no… you couldn’t love me. Not really. And by the time it was even possible, you found someone else.”</p><p>“Is... is <em>that</em> what this is about?” She looked just as stunned as she sounded. “You put a stop to any thoughts I might have had of infatuation when I was still young, and now you’re blaming this on me?”</p><p>“It’s not what this is about. But…seeing your choice with my own eyes didn’t hurt my decision any.”</p><p>She struggled with this revelation in the face of so many others, trying to shut off the tangle of emotions that played too clearly across her face.</p><p>Kurt took advantage of the distraction. Nicking himself on the blade at his throat in the process, he reached back and yanked her pistol from its holster, throwing an elbow into her face as he twisted out of her grip. She stumbled back, wiping away blood from the split in her lip, but by the time she’d spun back to face him, she was looking down the barrel of her own gun.</p><p>“No… please <em>no</em>….” Vasco started to surge to his feet, but he heard the heavy warning *clank* of the rifle hammer behind his head being locked back. Freezing in place, he debated whether it would be better to have his life snuffed out before or after he was forced to watch his Tempest die.</p><p>“Kill him if he moves again.”</p><p>“You have no honor.” She spat the words at Kurt, stepping into the gun so it was pressed directly against her forehead. There would be no begging to spare her life, no asking for mercy or quarter. She pulled herself up to her full height, glaring through tears at the man she had called her brother only moments before.</p><p>“I agree with you, Emelie. But…I <em>did</em> train you well.”</p><p>“The student surpasses the master…but it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re going to kill us all for selfish reasons and not lose a bit of sleep over it. So just <em>do</em> it.”</p><p>“You’re wrong. And I am so very proud of you… my sweet Excellency.”</p><p>“NO!”</p><p>The shot was loud in the antechamber, high ceilings echoing and amplifying the report. Everyone was still as the statues that decorated the halls, shocked by the sudden spray of blood. To Vasco, it felt like the entire world was moving in slow motion as he sprang to his feet, his own life be damned, racing across the room to her as she and Kurt both dropped heavily to the floor. The room still felt like it echoed the report around and around again. Maybe the others had drawn weapons and were fighting back, but he was blind to all of it.</p><p>He crashed into Emelie as he slid to his knees next to her and scooped her into his arms, searching frantically for the bullet’s entry among the many cuts that were already bleeding through her shirt. Her face was splashed with blood, but no gunpowder-burned hole marred her skin. She was staring at her fallen master-at-arms in a wide-eyed stupor as the low-ranking guards threw down their weapons and rapidly retreated from a coup they did not truly want to participate in.</p><p>Vasco turned her to fully face him, still searching her for the shot he was certain she’d taken…and his terrified expression at her blood-spattered face broke through her daze. She shook herself and blinked like she was waking from a bad dream, meeting his golden eyes with recognition and awareness, and he whimpered in relief, crushing her to him in a desperate embrace. They’d fought feral beasts and been injured in skirmishes, but he had never been truly afraid for her or so certain that she was about to draw her last breath. He knew now if he lost her, he’d be empty, broken. She’d become his entire world without him realizing the depths of it…and a silent sob of relief shook him as he clung to his precious Tempest.</p><p>It took longer for the others to realize that they were all still alive…save for the one treacherous, dead Coin Captain, blood pooling so rapidly around his body that it almost seemed unreal, the Legate’s pistol still smoking in his cooling fingers.</p><p>Constantin broke the silence first. “You saved us… <em>again</em>, cousin. The nerve of them!” He tried to put back on his ‘governor’ role, but the crack in his voice and the way he collapsed bonelessly into his chair betrayed how shaken he was.</p><p>She melted into Vasco’s arms, resting her head against his chest for only a moment, drawing strength from his embrace before pulling back and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Swaying, she pushed to her feet, facing the others. Nobles and esteemed visitors cowered at the corners of the room, but their companions were angry and ready to fight back.</p><p>“This was bound to happen eventually.” Unlike Constantin’s failed effort, she was back in her role as noble and Legate, bringing everyone together and providing leadership when no one else had finished processing what had happened. “We have to make sure everyone else is safe. Petrus, Aphra…while the Guard still thinks they have the upper hand, get messages to your governors. I don’t know if it’s too late, but we have to try to warn them if we can. Don’t let anything or anyone stand in your way, even if it means you go yourself. Siora, help Constantin and his advisors get to the cellars. There’s a safe room there. Lock yourselves in and don’t let anyone in till we get back. Kill anyone who tries to stop you.”</p><p>The pair hadn’t even left the room before she had turned, unhesitant and far more commanding than her cousin could ever hope to be, sending other servants and the remaining loyal guardsmen to help gather the advisors and post a watch in front of the palace to ensure the safety of the rest of the court. Warning Constantin to stay with Siora no matter what, she grabbed Vasco by the arm and dragged him out the door. Fighting was still going on, often guard against guard, through the palace halls and out into the streets.</p><p>“I have to find the Commander.” But as soon as she said it, she seemed to realize that <em>he</em> was injured as he swayed on his feet, looking up at him with concern which he immediately waved off. She touched the side of his head, a flicker of fear in her eyes as her fingers came away with his blood.</p><p>“I promise you, Tempest, I’ll be fine. I’ve cracked my thick head on ship’s rigging…I know when it’s serious. Where are we going?”</p><p>“Not you. Me. I’m going to the barracks.”</p><p>“Are you insane? That’s the heart of this mess.”</p><p>“We can’t let him get away with this. There are still good guardsmen. Not everyone turned traitor, as you saw.”</p><p>“It’s suicide.”</p><p>“It will be worse if he escapes. I have to. Stay here and protect Constantin and the others.” Something in her tone said there wasn’t going to be an argument, and he was still sick and dizzy from the heavy rifle strike, despite what he'd told her. Instead, he pulled her into a tight, desperate hug before stepping back to let her go.</p><p>“Be careful, Tempest. I thought I’d lost you once already today.”<em> And only in the last few minutes, at that.</em> He wanted to tell her not to go, that he needed her more than the rest of the city or island did. But with a herculean effort, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead and stepped back as she drew her sword and ran out into the chaos of New Serene.</p><p>“I love you…” Even though she was out of earshot, it slipped from his lips anyway. “Please come back to me.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Now that you've read it, I have to say that Kurt was one of my favorite characters, and I had fallen into the trap of "oh, his quest will wait till I'm done with this other thing." So, so very wrong. So the seeds to this story were planted, in angst and shock and quite a few 'wtf's directed at the screen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Ignorance Is Not Bliss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“It gave the Legate quite a scare when she returned. She has been berating herself that she didn’t notice how injured you were… she thought you had only been struck on that bloody thick skull of yours.”</p><p>“I was. I was more concerned about her. ”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is the point where canon and I mutually agreed to part ways for a little while.  It will (mostly) return in the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>What are you doing, man? Go after her! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You have a concussion, you idiot. You’ll get yourself killed.</em>
</p><p><em>She’ll get </em>herself<em> killed if you don’t do something.</em></p><p>The truly ridiculous part was that he didn’t know how long he’d stood at the base of the palace steps, having this oddly disassociated internal debate. Because of the coup, there weren’t the usual guards posted or servants milling around to ask him if he needed anything or if he was alright; they were all out fighting each other or hiding in fear for their own lives.</p><p>When he blinked himself back to awareness of his surroundings, the Legate was no longer in sight. He felt lucky he hadn’t just collapsed into the street…but he was sitting on the bottom step, leaning against the pillar and didn’t remember when he’d let himself do such a thing. He stood slowly again, coughing, wincing at the sudden agony that blazed through his head and chest. He let the pillar support his weight for a moment while his head spun and might have remained in that position for a while longer had he not been so determined to follow his love. He unsteadily took a first far-too-long step, but gentle hands suddenly steadied him. Now that he thought about it, it seemed like someone had been saying his name for a while.</p><p>“<em>Carants</em>, please. You shouldn’t be here. You’re badly injured.” Siora was in front of him, hands on his chest, looking genuinely concerned. He shook his head, and tried to walk forward again.</p><p>“I have to help her. <em>We</em> have to help her.” He blinked slowly, memory fuzzy… wasn’t Siora supposed to be with the Governor and not here, fussing over a simple concussion?</p><p>“Yes. But Petrus and I sent our messengers. Petrus is with the Governor, so we came to help,” Aphra said from his other side, helping to keep him on his feet. “We didn’t realize we’d be helping <em>you </em>stand up straight, captain.” She sounded as if she was only half teasing.</p><p>Huh…apparently he was saying everything out loud and not in his head. Maybe he had been knocked a bit harder than he’d thought, and now that the initial adrenaline had worn off, it was becoming more acute.</p><p>“Emelie went to…” He frowned….what had he been talking about? Siora was again standing directly in front of him, her hands on his arms, shaking him gently. “What?”</p><p>“You were out on your feet. You’re bleeding, and you are <em>not</em> going after her in this condition. Come with us now, or we will have to leave you where you fall in the street to find help. Neither of us can carry you by ourselves.” </p><p>He didn't think that was entirely true, but assisting a man on his feet was one thing and dragging an unconscious dead weight was entirely another.</p><p>He looked down the path where he’d last seen De Sardet, then finally nodded…which only served to make his head swim more. Focusing on the ground to help steady his balance, he was surprised to see blood pooling around his boots, soaking into his trouser leg and around his side, the entire left side of his shirt was a sticky, crimson mess beneath his jacket. Confused, he let Siora drape his other arm over her shoulders, one of her own wrapped around his waist to steady him, and they stumbled together the short distance to the residence.</p><p>The pair helped him to an empty guest room, far easier than trying to make it up the stairs in his delirium. He’d never taken a room of his own in the residence, preferring to stay with the Nauts closer to the docks... at least until he and Emelie had grown closer. After her invitation and at her gentle persuading, he hadn’t stayed anywhere else since. The linens here were soft, fresh… similar to <em>her</em> room, but lacking her scent.</p><p>“Help me get him out of his coat… and bring me as many potions as you have! Hurry!”</p><p>He didn’t understand why Siora sounded so frantic. He was dizzy, cold, and agony was spreading from his head to his chest and down his arm. He was aware that more hands than hers were moving him, shuffling him, pulling at his coat and shirt. He tried to protest, but just didn’t have the energy for it, or to fight them when he was eased down onto the pillows and turned over onto his side. He heard Siora saying something in her native tongue…rapid and nearly guttural…and if he didn’t know her better, he would have sworn that she was cursing.</p><p>She put her hands against his spine, and agony shot upward, making white spots dance in front of his eyes...he thought he cried out...and that was the last he could recall.</p><p>______</p><p>The Naut Captain woke up to the sun shining brightly through a narrow crack in the heavy curtains, and he stretched, reaching for the expected shape of his beautiful Legate, but his arm fell on empty sheets. Opening his eyes, the sunshine made him blink as if he had never seen light so bright before.</p><p>Slowly, the memory of her running into the streets of New Serene alone, blood on her face from Kurt’s suicide and still reeling from everything else she’d dealt with that day, and he jerked upright...which only served to send a fresh bolt of pain through his skull.</p><p>He had to ignore it, had to get to her, half rolling, half sliding out of the bed, and catching himself on a corner post as a wave of dizziness made him rock forward on his feet. He didn’t quite recognize the room, but it was familiar nonetheless.</p><p>There was no knock as a servant pushed open the door without announcement, peered in and ducked her head demurely in case the gentleman was more unclothed than he appeared.</p><p>“Sir? We heard a noise and were afraid you might have fallen.”</p><p>“We? Where…?”</p><p>“The ambassadorial household, sir.”</p><p>He found his throat was dry as if he hadn’t spoken in days, taking several tries to produce words. “De Sardet… is she…?”</p><p>The servant shook her head, and his heart dropped… then gave a relieved sigh as she explained, “The Lady is away on a trip to the north, sir. Your friends checked in quite often before they left with her. Your Admiral has been here several times, and you missed Lady Morange, who dropped by earlier today. I’ll fetch the lord Bishop. He is still here, and will be most relieved you’re awake.” She glanced up at him now that she was convinced he wasn’t standing naked behind the bedpost. “I’ll have a bath drawn for you if you feel up to it, sir, and prepare something to eat when you are done. It will be here waiting when you are ready.”</p><p>He was overwhelmed for a moment at both the rush of information and the unexpected care… normally, he could draw his own bath, thank you very much…but he also recognized he was starving and weak, despite whatever healing Siora had provided. “Wait…several times? How long have I been asleep?”</p><p>She gave him a confused look. “Sleep? You have been under a healer’s care for nearly two weeks, sir.” She nervously glanced over her shoulder, then back to him. “Do you not recall?”</p><p>Scowling, he reached up and rubbed the back of his head…that knock was probably going to leave a scar, but the spot was only mildly tender. His earlier headrush had likely been from bolting upright so suddenly rather than any lingering effects after being healed. But <em>weeks</em>? Had he really been struck that hard and not realized? And he ached…his back and shoulder bloomed with fresh twinges every time he moved.</p><p>Lowering himself into the bath was blissful, soothing heat over the aches in his bones…but soapy fingers found the two new scars on his back, one just below the shoulder and the other lower, closer to his spine. They felt small, roundish, about the size of a rifle slug, and he could still see the remains of a healing bruise on his side from the impact. He swallowed hard. That explained a great deal, but he didn’t remember being shot…twice, at that. Neither scar had a matching exit from the front.</p><p>
  <em>Going to end up weighing another stone from all the bullets if this keeps up.</em>
</p><p>Dressing was far slower than usual since his arm was stiff and none of his fingers felt like they wanted to work quite right. Once he was clothed again, he went searching for what he’d been wearing that day…part of him still rejecting the truth of the situation. His clothes should have been bloodied and torn… possibly even blackened with powder if it had been close range. The only item he found was his jacket.  Of course, the rest would have been laundered…or burned if they were unsalvageable. He took his coat from where it had been hung, pulling the back seams to look it over. There they were…two neat patches, the thick leather only slightly darker beneath where each hole had been. Whoever had mended and cleaned it knew what they were doing, and for that he was grateful, although still disturbed by the confirmation.</p><p>With a sigh, he put the coat away and sat down at the small table in front of a waiting bowl of stew, tea, and more bread and fruit than he would ever be able to eat. He still couldn’t believe he’d been out quite so long, and despite it, was ready to collapse back onto the soft pillows of the bed and sleep again, already exhausted by the effort of being up for this long. He remembered vague bits and pieces as if it had been a dream... when he had woken up, that's exactly what it had felt like.</p><p>
  <em>A kiss from Emelie, but her drawing back with bloodstained lips, the sensation of warm tears on his hand as her fingers twined with his… the voice of Admiral Cabral, unusually emotional…Siora’s cool hands on his temples and chest, the warmth and glow of green waves of magic flowing over him…vile healing liquids forced down his throat again and again…a soft, broken voice in his ear murmuring apologies over and over. </em>
</p><p>He rubbed his head again in frustration before picking up a spoon.</p><p>The knock on the door startled him out of his own thoughts, and he growled as he grabbed a cloth to clean up the soup that he’d jostled out of the bowl at the sudden interruption. “Aye. Come in.”</p><p>Petrus stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Captain, I hope you don’t mind. When I heard you were awake…”</p><p>“Not at all.” He gestured for Petrus to join him. Normally, he might have hesitated. He didn’t trust the Bishop in the slightest, but the man was the only one who had any news of what had happened since the attempted coup. As he poured himself a cup of tea without invitation, Vasco ate quietly, trying to pace himself rather than wolfing down each mouthful, eyeing the Thélème minister. He wasn’t going to sit here and have meaningless small talk with the man, so between bites, he asked, “What happened? The servant lass said I’ve been sleeping for a while.”</p><p>“How much do you remember, Captain?”</p><p>“Not much… and I think we’re beyond titles at this point.”</p><p>“Are we?”</p><p>He paused, golden hues flicking up from his food. “If you’d rather stay formal, <em>Bishop</em>, I have no problem. After all, my crew would never call me by anything other than my title, no matter how much death and strife we’d been through together.”</p><p>The elder sighed, “No, you are entirely correct. No two peers who have shared the amount of difficulties as we have should be using such formalities. Speaking of difficulties… how are you feeling?”</p><p>“Sore. Starving. Tired. I know I followed Emelie out of the palace, intending to help her go after the Commander. Whe decided I was too injured to continue, and by the time I had a clear enough head to  try to catch up, she was gone and our friends were helping me get here.”</p><p>“It gave the Legate quite a scare when she returned. She has been berating herself that she didn’t notice how injured you were… she thought you had only been struck on that bloody thick skull of yours.”</p><p>“I was. I was more concerned about her.”</p><p>“Yes… but the moment Kurt fell and you stood up, the man guarding you pulled the trigger.”</p><p>“By logic, I know that has to be true, but I don’t remember hearing the reports, and I certainly didn’t feel anything at the time.”</p><p>“That guard is no longer alive now, naturally, but he was ordered to kill you if you interfered…you do recall <em>that</em>, yes?”</p><p>He nodded slowly. “I’ve been shot before.” Petrus raised a brow at the revelation. “Pirates. Not life-threatening, but it hurt like hell. This time…I didn’t even feel it.” He considered. “I was so focused on Emelie. Everything in my head was screaming, thinking that Kurt had murdered her…and I…I went blank.”</p><p>“Come now. You must have felt it at some point.”</p><p>He thought back, reaching for a piece of bread and dipping it into the broth. “Not till we were out of the palace, and the rush of fear had waned…too long after the event to associate it properly.” Taking a bit, he considered while he chewed. “And to that, I have to ask…if I was bleeding out, how did no one else notice, either?”</p><p>Now it was Petrus’ turn to frown. “I suppose all of us were in a bit of shock. We <em>were</em> standing near, and I remember hearing the shots…the flash of muzzle fire out of the corner of my eye. Perhaps we all assumed it missed, and no one else was dying save for that <em>traitor</em>.” He nodded toward the coat hanging near the door. “Through that bit of armor, we certainly couldn’t see that you were hurt. Aphra confessed that when they removed your coat and saw your injuries, she feared you were already past saving.”</p><p>He grunted, “Remind me next time to thrash about rather than ignorantly passing out from blood loss.” He’d been following the Legate, so she wouldn’t have necessarily seen, either… or perhaps she assumed the same thing as the rest of them. He suspected she wouldn’t have left him there if she’d been aware of the situation. Petrus told him of the chase, how the Commander had been tried and hung by his replacement, and the impending punishment of the other officers who had willingly participated in the failed assassination attempts.</p><p>“Where is she, by the way?”</p><p>“After you were no longer in immediate danger, she took Aphra and Siora north to find a healer for her cousin. Unfortunately, he deteriorated quickly after the coup attempt, otherwise, no one would have been able to tear her away. She was by your bedside constantly, before and after. Or rather, <em>was</em> until the Governor vanished with that <em>heathen</em> native shaman several days ago.”</p><p>“By the seas, can none of us have a moment’s peace on this cursed island?” He started to push back from the table, but Petrus gave him a stern look, shaking his head.</p><p>“Apparently not, but she is leagues away, and you need to regain your strength. Sit. Worrying yourself will do little good.”</p><p>“She’s…”</p><p>“A survivor, and by far, stronger of will than any of us put together.”</p><p>“I know, but…”</p><p>Both of them turned their heads at the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs. The door flung open hard enough strike the wall, the Legate at nearly a full run, yet somehow managing to stop herself before smashing headlong into Vasco...which seemed to be her initial intent. The frantic entrance was now tempered with a concerned look as she paused at arms-length, reaching out to gently touch his arm as if she could barely believe he was standing there, alive and well.</p><p>He was having none of it, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a crushing embrace that she immediately returned with equal fervor. What she had been concerned about was true…the embrace was more painful than he wanted to admit, but there was no way he was letting her go or asking her to ease the way she clung to him.</p><p>He breathed softly against her hair, “You’re alive,” and heard her surprised chuckle in response.</p><p>“<em>I’m</em> alive?” She pulled back enough to stare up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I should be the one grateful that <em>you</em> are! I left you there to… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I was blinded by the urgency of everything else. If you had died, it would have been my fault...”</p><p>She was nearly babbling in her rush to speak, and he silenced her with a kiss, hoping to reassure her both that he was really alive and that he could never…<em>would</em> never…blame her for anything that had happened. The blame lay squarely with the Coin Guard and no one else.</p><p>Vaguely, he heard Petrus clear his throat, then scoot his chair back to quietly excuse himself from their reunion.</p><p>“Wait… you should hear the news, too, Bishop.” She had reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, glancing over her shoulder only briefly.</p><p>“How about we sit for this?” She shot Vasco another look laced with concern, and he managed an easier smile for her. “I’m fine, Tempest, only tired. I just woke a few hours ago, and I’m already exhausted.”</p><p>It didn’t alleviate her concern, but she nodded, at least, helping him back to the bed and offering additional pillows so he could sit up while they talked. She sat next to him and told them of their need to find a healer for her cousin, the trials they had gone through during the journey but returned successfully with a renowned shaman...how she thought they were making progress until the Lady Morange had sent her a message that her cousin hadn’t been heard from for days.</p><p>With a frown, Vasco pulled her into his arms as she told the rest…the search, the rituals, the dead soldiers, and finally the mad King. She was shaken by the brutal deaths at the hand of the native king, even though Siora had assured her they were given no other choice but to end the man-turned-naidag. True to her nature, she also fretted over Siora’s state of mind.</p><p>“She went back to her village. Said she needed to be with her sister and come to terms with what had happened.”</p><p>“How is your cousin, dear child?”</p><p>“He hasn’t responded since we found him. Some spell the king put him under…or some trauma he endured. Lady Morange is with the healers. She said she would send word as soon as he was awake.”</p><p>Petrus nodded, finishing his tea and standing. “I’ll check in with Aphra, then. Is there anything either of you need?”</p><p>Vasco shook his head. “Rest… for both of us, it seems.”</p><p>Almost as soon as the bishop closed the door, Emelie broke down, weeping silently against his chest. Vasco could only hold her until she had exhausted herself…not a difficult task. Even as tired as he was, he could see the exhaustion consuming her, mentally and physically. As much as the sea and the island had agreed with her when they’d first arrived, everything since then had taken its toll...darkness had returned to her eyes and pallor to her skin. His chest ached that he had unknowingly added to her burden.</p><p>“We’ll get through this, Tempest,” he whispered, even though she was already limp and sleeping restlessly in his arms. “Together. I promise as long as I have breath, I’ll be here for you.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Pretense</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which De Sardet worries over her cousin, learns more truth from Petrus than she wanted to know, and Constantin displays his first signs of madness.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I updated some tags and rearranged a bit now that I'm a tiny bit more familiar with the system. Hopefully, it reflects the story more accurately.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Congregation Governor stood at the window, basking in the sunlight and warmth streaming through. He’d never felt stronger, never felt better or more certain of anything in his entire life. He could feel the island like it was breathing in tandem with him…or maybe he was breathing with it. There was a pulse, a <em>life</em> behind the petty little creatures that scurried obliviously around it like ants over a mountain.</p><p>Hands clasped behind his back, he rocked forward onto his toes, belatedly realizing that Lady Morange was chittering in his ear, fussing over something inane and insignificant. He only broke from his contemplation when the former governor at his side was replaced by his darling cousin…except she wasn’t actually his cousin anymore, was she? Not blood related at all.</p><p>Initially, he’d been heartbroken…but of course, that had been while he was sick. Blood sick, mind sick, and heartsick between her revelation and Kurt’s betrayal. He had worried for her, cast adrift by his father’s lies and secrets, but far too ill to give her a shoulder to cry on. In only a few short days, his thoughts had turned from her troubles to his own, in constant agony and wishing for death…but she’d not only found a way to save him yet again, but also unknowingly gifted him with so much more.</p><p>With all she had done for him, how could she <em>not</em> be constantly in his thoughts? She belonged right where she stood now…at his right hand. Now more than ever.</p><p>When he turned to her with a beaming smile, she flinched back with a gasp before catching herself and hiding her reaction behind a warm and caring smile. He knew that mask all too well…he must have seen it hundreds of times in court after hearing herself mocked for her beautiful birthmark or a thousand other petty and bullying slights. That mask fell into place every time, like a ward against her enemies, and he’d heard the pretty lies that fell from her lips to accompany it…compliments and praise that made the insulting party look selfish and petty…and often dragged their reputations down along with it.</p><p>It was even more surprising because she wasn’t mean at heart like so many of those in court. She was sweet and kind and generous to a fault, but <em>they</em> had never seen her in anger…or collapsing with him in a heap while laughing uproariously at whatever ridiculous thing they’d found funny…or weeping in his arms when the intricacies of court life became one burden too many. Her courtly mask was perfect…she was a perfect negotiator, a perfect noble, a perfect daughter, a perfect friend. He wondered if she would be a perfect… that train of thought came to a sudden halt and hcleared his throat as he realized she was staring at him as if waiting for him to reply.</p><p>As he watched that mask slide into place for him, his heart broke a little more… he tried reminding himself of all she had been through as well, and as she had just been telling him, she hadn’t been allowed to visit him for days. A tragedy that he would see someone on his staff punished for.</p><p>For now, he plastered on his brightest smile, opening his arms so he could embrace her. “My stunning cousin!” Pulling back after their hug, he held her at arms’ length, trying to keep his tone light and teasing. “How do I look? I haven’t really even looked in the mirror recently, but I assure you I feel wonderful! Better than I ever have!”</p><p>That wasn’t true, either. After waking, he sat in front of the vanity mirror, awed at the change. The malichor had left its scars, marking him forever, but the lines and blemishes blended so well with the branches and greenery sprouting from his once straw-colored hair.</p><p>Of course, it had been shocking at first, and he suspected his own expression had initially matched hers, but it felt like <em>this</em> was the real person inside…the one he was supposed to be and not the frail mess he had been. His eyes were changing color as well, losing the blue that was another part of what drew people to his handsomeness…turning instead to a surreal icicle hue that was almost hypnotic.</p><p>Before, he was handsome… now, he was <em>magnificent</em>, and he needed to convince Emelie of that. If only he had her silver tongue, always able to find just the right words to convince, to comfort, to console. It was only the surprise at his change that made her gasp, after all…</p><p>With exaggerated effect and a newfound sense of absolute freedom, he strode to the dais and sat to hear his not-cousin’s latest news, feigning surprise and concern because that’s what he was supposed to do as Governor, even though the germ of an idea had already started to grow which would make their wordly concerns obsolete.</p><p>He might even be a god in the making, and his darling Emelie had made it happen…his father could hold nothing over him any longer. He should be the one worshipping <em>her</em>…but he needed to research this gift a bit more before involving her. She was busy, and had more to do than watching him pour through texts and listen to the wonderful things the island was already telling him.</p><p>As she bid him a concerned farewell and left with her companions, he noted her headshake as she walked away, seeming to still be troubled by his sudden health and cheery demeanor. Why should she be upset that he’d gained more than he had before? Perhaps she was afraid he was faking it for her sake?</p><p>He needed to resolve that impression soon.</p><p>________________</p><p>De Sardet had been upset with Petrus already for his odd entrapment scheme against the Mother Cardinal. As exhausted as she looked…worry and constantly being on the go was taking as much of a toll on her as it had on her cousin….she put on her perfect ambassadorial mask, and against her own better judgment, helped with everything Petrus asked of her.</p><p>but in the quiet of their room at night, she confided to her lover that she despised the methods he was using, especially coming from a man of the cloth. She’d voiced her concerns to the Bishop as well, but he’d brushed them off, doing his utmost to convince her it was for the good of the Congregation’s relationship with Theleme.</p><p>Since they were in San Matheus to investigate the animal attacks, she had agreed, even though she wasn’t entirely convinced. As she listened to Mother Cardinal’s tale of scandal and confessions, why Petrus had <em>really</em> wanted her help, Vasco watched her shock melt into barely held fury. He had never thought anyone deserving of being keelhauled until the Coin Guard rebellion, but he was putting the good Bishop into that category as well. Somehow he managed to hold his tongue…the lashing was going to come from their Legate if he was reading her expression correctly. Considering it had once been turned on him…and he hoped once was all... he decided it was a safe bet.</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?” she sputtered.</p><p>“I couldn’t find the right time.” Petrus was desperately trying to backpedal. “I…”</p><p>“You were standing at my side when the Admiral told us of my heritage, and you said <em>nothing! </em>You knew about it long before that, more than enough times to broach the subject when it came up, and you said<em> nothing!” </em>Her hands were clenched at her sides, and Vasco was afraid he was going to start seeing blood dripping from between her fingers from her nails cutting into her palms. “Do not <em>ever</em> speak to me again, Petrus. You are no longer welcome in my sight.”</p><p>“I only wanted to protect you, my child. And I can help you find your family…”</p><p>She took a step forward and slapped him hard enough that the sound stopped the murmuring prayers from the petitioners in the room, their heads jerking upwards in horrified surprise almost as one.</p><p>“You’re going to hold that over me after all we just did??” As soon as she’d spit out the words, she seemed to remember herself and her official role, turning to the Mother Cardinal with her head bowed in supplication, even though fury still played across her features, warring with her calmer nature.</p><p>“Apologies, Reverend Mother. I…”</p><p>“To be perfectly honest, your Excellency,” the woman interrupted. “I’m surprised a slap was <em>all</em> you gave him. He may have even deserved it…so instead, I’ll thank you kindly for your news and your honesty, and I hope we’ll speak again at another time when emotions are not running quite so high.” Vasco could have sworn the Mother Cardinal was trying to hide a smirk behind the disappointed glare she was giving to Petrus.</p><p>The Legate bowed and rapidly left the room…almost fleeing. The Bishop was holding his hand to his reddened cheek, the imprint of her hand stark against his pallor, stunned into silence by what seemed like an entirely uncharacteristic act. The Naut almost… <em>almost</em>… smirked as well, as he bowed to the Governor and turned to follow Emelie. Obviously, their esteemed Bishop had not been paying close enough attention to the many moods of their leader and friend.</p><p>Emelie was already down the stairs and the entrance doors were closing behind her, and he wondered how she wasn’t running when even his own long strides couldn’t keep pace. By the time he caught up with her, she had reached the foot of the steps outside the palace. “Tempest!” He caught her by the arm to stop her, but when she turned her head to look at him, he let go of her like he’d been burned, startled at the pure fury that was still burning in her eyes. She blinked once, took a deep, shuddering breath, and continued walking, turning in the courtyard like she was headed for the house, but instead she walked straight past the wrought iron and the familiar green door, out of the gates of the city.</p><p>Aphra was waiting for them in camp outside the guard post, not keen on getting herself arrested by the Inquisition for the singular sin of being from Hikmet, but confusion stopped her greeting mid-word. Vasco gestured to her to grab her things and catch up, and once she’d jogged to match his pace, still lagging behind De Sardet, he explained the eye-opening conversation they’d had at the cathedral.</p><p>The scholar stopped in her tracks. “She didn’t!”</p><p>With a sigh, he turned around to face her. “She did. And threw him off the crew to boot.”</p><p>“I’m…impressed… I didn’t think she’d ever tell him ‘no,’ much less banish him completely. That was cold.”</p><p>“Not entirely undeserved.”</p><p>“Oh…I agree. I respect the man, but his methods are… <em>un</em>Enlightened.” She chuckled at her own pun and started walking again, silent for a while as they hurried to catch up to the Legate. “What now?”</p><p>“I suspect checking in on her cousin is highest on her list, but we still need to visit your home city. She’s been on edge from those worries alone. Petrus, the poor bastard," he clicked his tongue in sympathy, "didn’t have a chance.”</p><p>________________</p><p>Constantin had invited her to join him for dinner once she had returned from her latest diplomatic mission, on the guise of filling him in on the news from abroad.</p><p>She sat miserably next to him, stirring her soup, spoon clinking softly against the porcelain, but she had yet to take a bite as she told him about the doctor in Hikmet and the rushed trial she’d had to help prosecute. He reached over and stilled her hand, making her slowly drag her eyes from the table to meet his.</p><p>“And yet, we live, my dearest cousin.”</p><p>“I wish I had shot him in the head.”</p><p>He chuckled quietly, squeezing her hand before returning to his meal, stabbing several chunks of meat and gesturing at her with the laden fork. “You wish no such thing. You’ve killed men because you <em>have</em> to, Emelie. You never even raised a hand in anger to anyone before we reached Teer Fradee. You are not, and will never be, a cold-blooded murderer.”</p><p>“I was going to kill Kurt.”</p><p>“He almost killed you first, and you gave him every chance to relent. It would have been self-defense if you had…or at least defense of your Governor and doting cousin. Besides, <em>you</em> didn’t pull the trigger. He started and ended it, and we will not speak his name again.”</p><p>She flinched anyway, giving up on pretending to eat and abandoning her spoon entirely.</p><p>“Emelie…” He put down his still-loaded fork. “…<em>we</em> are alive, and that horrible doctor was tried and hung for his crimes against the crown. You have nothing to fret over.”</p><p>“I could have lost you, Constantin. I failed you so many times. How do you not hate me?” When she looked up at him again, a silent tear streaking its way down her perfect cheek, he frowned. He knew when she got like this, all he could do was comfort her. It was hard to watch, but it still astonished him how much she could suffer ignorant fools over and over but her own doubts could become her undoing.</p><p>“Oh, Emmie.” He stood up and pulled her out of her chair and into a tight embrace. “It’s all over now. There is nothing else that can hurt us. We’ve beaten everything the continent and the island could throw at us.”</p><p>Sniffling against his jacket, she shook her head. “Please don’t jinx it. I don’t think I could bear anything else.”</p><p>“You’ll not have to face it alone. I’ll always be here for you, <em>cousin</em>. Just as I know you’ll always be here for me.” Pulling away, he tucked his fingers beneath her chin and lifted so he could meet her eyes. Beautiful green jewels that fairly glowed when they were filled with tears. He wanted to kiss away her tears and her pain…and why not? They weren’t related anymore…</p><p>She had relaxed into his familiar touch, and when his lips touched hers, for just one blissful moment, she responded to his advance. But all too quickly, she stiffened, pushing at him, eyes wide as the concerns of only moments ago were forgotten in this new experience.</p><p>“Constantin? What…?”</p><p>He only smiled down at her, not letting her go. “Something I’ve wanted to do for years. It would have been one more intolerable fight with my father if we’d given in, but now, <em>beautiful </em>cousin, we can be what we’ve always wanted.”</p><p>“What <em>we’ve</em>…?”</p><p>He couldn’t quite understand the stunned expression on her delicate features. It made a little wrinkle between her brows that was so endearing, but it wasn’t the expression he had hoped for. He wanted… adoration, love, <em>lust</em>… and back on the continent, he could get those expressions in spades from the women and men who flocked to court to beg for his hand.</p><p>“Constantin! Let go!”</p><p>But not from her. She didn’t see him that way. He supposed that was acceptable… it was still new…an exploration for both of them.</p><p>He could make her see.</p><p>He would make her see.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wish I had a better posting schedule. Or any schedule at all. But my job is random in its busy seasons, so I'll continue to post as I can.  Thank you for reading and sticking with it!</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Fortune Favors No One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aftermath and fallout of Emelie's dinner with her 'cousin'</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one was hard to write and know how far I can/should go, and how far I was comfortable with. Which turned out to be not very far. I couldn't go back and reread it for the edits, either, so I honestly don't know if it's a rambling mess or full of typos.</p><p>So if you don't want to read confusion and anger and a lot of pain, with a LOT of avoidance of actual and honest discussions about rape by a trusted loved one, I'd skip this chapter entirely.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vasco had shed his belts and armor hours ago for the luxury of a tub so near the fireplace. The water stayed warm for so much longer, and it soothed away the aches from being on the trail for weeks. Travel by horseback was not quite as miserable as sitting in a rocking, jolting wagon for hours on end, but it was still no way for a sailor to travel. For as much as he wanted to be at Emelie’s side, he missed his ship, his crew, and the familiar and beautiful violence of the ocean… but a hot bath with soothing, scented oils could ease the yearning for a little while.</p><p>The water had cooled by the time he finally emerged, drying and redressing only in his breeches to pad quietly downstairs and raid the pantry for an apple and a pastry. Two of the cooks were still up, preparing dough to rise overnight, and one of them gave him an amused eyeroll and a shake of her head as he tossed the apple in the air and caught it behind his back with a wink. The house was peaceful… he could hear Siora and Aphra chatting together in the foyer while he stopped in the study to pick out a new book. Emelie’s dinner with the governor was nothing new, and he expected them to visit long into the evening, especially with all the news since they’d been home the last time.</p><p>Home… he actually thought of this as home, even though being on land for so long was starting to make him restless. Unfortunately, he was at the mercy of the Admiral in that regard, even though she’d restored his rank. Until she saw fit to give him back his ship and crew, he could still be happy here. He had friends, more contacts among the continentals than most captains had in a lifetime, and a relatively lax routine when they weren’t traveling. It was not a bad change of pace to know what was going to happen on any given day.</p><p>What he didn’t expect was the sound of the front door slamming open against the wall hard enough for a vase on a stand nearby to fall and shatter with finality. Emelie had a way of pushing her way into rooms that commanded attention, but this felt different.  Siora’s voice rose, loud and concerned, but he couldn’t make out her words in her rush of common. Replacing the book he had initially chosen, he peered out into the hall, where Emelie was trying to brush them off with some muttered excuse and escape to the stairs, but they were having none of it, both of the women in postures of outrage.</p><p>“Have bandits grown so bold to attack in plain view?”</p><p>“It wasn’t… I’m fine. I only need…” Emelie’s voice hitched as she caught sight of him in the hall, and he realized he’d been staring…in a blink, he’d taken in her disheveled appearance, braids pulling free from the intricate pins, her shirt torn…but the bruise that was purpling the side of her face had made him stop breathing. She was a better fighter than to fall prey to a sucker punch, so whoever had done it must have had the element of surprise. Covering the distance between them, he grabbed her by the shoulders…probably too hard, judging by the wince and the gasp, and it frightened him more than he wanted to admit that she flinched from his grasp.</p><p>“What happened, Tempest? Please?” Her eyes were too wide, her skin too pale, whatever had happened had shaken her to the very core… <em>fear</em> in her eyes when she looked at him, and he let her go as if he’d been stung. She’d <em>never</em> looked at him that way before, and it was unnerving. Of course she’d been afraid plenty of times before… but in a pinch, she could redirect her fears into something useful. This was new and raw, and he couldn’t breathe as his brain slowly caught up with the possibility…the bruises around her throat, on her arm and shoulder, buttons and laces torn…</p><p>“No… no no no…”</p><p>Her expression flipped in an instant from fear to miserable, tired resignation, and his heart shattered, vaguely aware that Siora had put an arm around her shoulders and was guiding her toward the stairs. Pinned by his own shock, emotions running from dread to disbelief to rage and back again so rapidly he could barely process it.</p><p>Aphra took him by the arm and gently but firmly turned him back toward the study where she pointed him toward a chair.</p><p>“This can’t be…”</p><p>“Oh, you’d be surprised how often it can, Captain.” He was momentarily taken aback by the venom in her voice, and he blinked up at her. “You <em>men</em>…think you can just take whatever you want.”</p><p>“<em>I </em>didn’t,” he shot back, “and would never.” His own anger was rising again, even though he recognized it wasn’t really directed at her any more than hers was to him. “I’ve hung others for it, so do <em>not</em> put me in that category.”</p><p>Aphra closed her eyes for a second, willing herself to calm. “You’re right… but don’t think it’s such a rare thing, Captain.” She was well and truly pissed if she was back to calling him by his title, so he didn’t push it. </p><p>Dropping his head into his hands, he groaned. <em>It wasn’t unheard of…but he just couldn’t believe…couldn’t accept…that such a thing could happen to her. </em></p><p>When Siora finally came downstairs alone, he was on his feet in an instant, but she raised a hand in warning before he could rush past.</p><p>“You are both my friends, but I am warning you…be gentle with her right now. “</p><p>He wanted to snap at her, worry and tension strung so tightly he felt like he was going to break… he was <em>always</em> gentle with Emelie, wasn’t he? She must have seen it in his face because she blocked his path, intent on making him stop and listen.</p><p>“You love her, but this is important, <em>carants</em>. You must give her room to work through her own emotions. Do you understand?”</p><p>“You want me to leave her by herself?” Now he did snap, misdirected anger in his voice and posture, but she shook her head slowly.</p><p>“No…but if she asks to be alone, you will heed her wishes. Do not smother her… do not ask her a thousand questions, because she will tell you only what she wants to…and for now, that’s likely nothing. She needs to know you still love her no matter what…but that does not mean giving voice to your own anger or worries…at least not to her.”</p><p>How else would it possibly be? He would always be there for her, wouldn’t he? “Just tell me which of the Guard we’re going to kill tomorrow.”</p><p>“Guard?”</p><p>“There wouldn’t be bandits this close…the guards would have removed them. So it had to be one of the Coin Guard, yes? Revenge for their failed coup or just… drunken stupidity.” He didn’t like the way Siora was looking at him now, like she knew…</p><p>…like she knew something else.</p><p>He sank heavily into the chair again, knees suddenly rubber and a cold weight settling in his gut. “It wasn’t a guard, either, was it. The only other person she saw tonight… ” He was going to be sick.  </p><p>“She… didn’t say one way or the other.” But her tone and the glance she exchanged with Aphra said she suspected as much as well.</p><p>“Ugh! I <em>knew</em> I didn’t like that arrogant little prick.” The scholar was on her feet now, pacing. “We would have been better to let him fucking <em>die</em>. She might have been sad and pissed at us for a while, but in exchange for <em>this</em>...”</p><p>Vasco pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes hard enough to see colors bloom behind his lids, forcing down the sob that threatened to choke him, letting white hot fury take over instead.</p><p>“I’ll kill him,” he said it quietly, simply… he was angry enough that he was shaking, but his voice sounded dead even in his own ears. “Tie him to the mast with his own entrails and flay him alive. Cut off his cock and feed it to him, then let the crows take whatever’s left.”</p><p>Aphra had stopped ranting and was staring at him in horror. “That is… awful. Even for what he did.”</p><p>He rose slowly. “It’s better than he deserves.”</p><p>Siora was in front of him again, blocking his path, ever the voice of quiet and reason…which amazed him, considering how much she disliked the Governor. “You are speaking of things you want to do… not what you will do? Yes?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You cannot.”</p><p>“Watch me.”</p><p>“He is her cousin. She will not want you to dirty your hands…and he is still the Governor.”</p><p>“I don’t care.”</p><p>“Yes…but any of <em>us</em> killing him, no matter the crime, will start a war that will result in more death than his and ours. He is the Prince’s son, correct? What would he do when he receives news that a Naut killed him?”</p><p>“For raping his cousin!”</p><p>She was silent, her expression agreeing with him completely, but… she was also used to unfair treatment , the twisting of justice to benefit those in power and not those who had been wronged. He glanced at Aphra, who wore the same expression…they weren’t wrong… and he finally sighed, wilting in defeat.</p><p>“They would threaten to send an army against the Nauts, and to save their treaties, all we would do…all we could do… is offer up his murderer.” The word left a bitter taste on his tongue. It wouldn’t be murder, it would be justice… but the Congregation wouldn’t see it that way.  “Fuck.”</p><p>Boldly, Siora took his hand, “And now you have to ask yourself if you can be strong for her. She will be bold and put on a brave face and bury her anger and pain…but she needs someone at her side who can hold her up while she regains herself and not run off to try to avenge her honor. Can you do that? Be her soul, her pain, her love, and her strength? She sees you as her<em> minudhanem… </em>but do <em>you</em> see it?” She gave him a searching look, then stepped out of his way after giving his hand a reassuring and hopeful squeeze.</p><p>He took a deep breath…the walk up the stairs to her room felt like it stretched out forever, and he was cautious in his knock on her door… asking permission instead of simply walking in as if all was normal, as if it was no longer his right to share that space with her… because in truth, it no longer was. That privilege and trust had been stripped away by someone else’s cruelty, and it made him feel helpless. He fought down another flare of anger before tapping at the doorway again, forcing himself to speak softly.</p><p>“Tempest…?”</p><p>The pause was far longer than it should have been…but she finally responded.</p><p>“Come in.”</p><p>He was careful about closing the door behind him, and he suddenly felt like a timid child, afraid of being scolded for daring to approach. <em>Stop it. You have to show her nothing has changed. </em></p><p>His feelings toward her certainly hadn’t, and he sat on the edge of the bed before scooting to his normal spot, sitting up against the pillows and lifting his arm in invitation for her to sit with him. It seemed to be all the confirmation she needed, bracing herself against him like he was the last bastion in a storm that had destroyed everything else around them. He let her weep, silently holding her close, kissing her forehead or temple or hand, letting her know without words that she was safe here, that he still loved her and nothing would change that. She wasn’t a broken, helpless thing…but she had been wronged more deeply than anyone should have to bear.</p><p>In that depth, a bottomless hatred for the governor took a firm hold… he swore to himself that one way or the other, Constantin was going to pay.</p><p>____________</p><p>Siora hated to disturb them, Emelie most of all…she was hoping to let her rest undisturbed through the morning, but some things simply couldn’t wait. She carefully held the teacup so not to spill any, but the delicate porcelain always made her nervous to handle it, scarcely understanding why anyone would make dishes so fragile they seemed they would break with only a touch.</p><p>Quietly, she knocked on the door, barely a tap…but the door was opened almost immediately and her friend’s appearance made her gasp. She was in a simple shift, which exposed all of the bruises that were not visible by candlelight the night before. Siora initially hadn’t understood why she’d resisted taking healing herbs to ease the physical pain…but Emelie told her if she did, she was afraid she’d start thinking she imagined it, because it couldn’t have been something that actually happened. Worse, her cousin would deny it, and she didn’t want to let herself believe in him, either.</p><p>She’d bathed, brushed her hair and braided it sloppily… or Vasco had done it for her, the best he could…but she looked as if she was on her last legs, exhausted circles around her eyes, the sparkle gone, no color in her cheeks, skin pale.</p><p>“Oh, <em>carants</em>…” Siora breathed softly, keeping her voice low. She caught a glimpse of the captain sleeping sitting up, still fully clothed. Emelie glanced over her shoulder, then stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind her.</p><p>“I’ll live. Just… tired.”</p><p>“Tired does not quite cover it, I’m afraid.” She held out the tea. “I brought you this.”</p><p>The legate took the cup, much less carefully than Siora thought was safe, but then, she was used to such delicate things. She brought it up to her nose, inhaling the steam, then frowned. “I know this… it’s familiar, but not.” Taking another sniff, she eyed it with disappointment. “It’s not just tea.”</p><p>Siora nodded. “It will help with any unwanted symptoms.”</p><p>Emelie stared down into the cup for another few moments before handing it back to Siora. “Thank you… but I can’t.”</p><p>“<em>Carants</em>…”</p><p>Giving her friend a narrow smile. “I appreciate it, Siora. And I normally I would. But there are already things I don’t want to lose.” She glanced over her shoulder again even though she couldn’t see into the room, and the islander finally understood. Setting the cup on a nearby table, she gently hugged her dear friend.</p><p>“I would say I am happy, but now is not the time. Does he know?”</p><p>She shook her head, sadness creeping across her face again. “And like you said, now isn’t the time, either. I’m not sure when it will be…or honestly, how he’ll take it.”</p><p>“He is your <em>minudhanem. </em>How do you think?” Siora couldn’t help a fond smile. “If you have not noticed, he would give his life for you.”</p><p>“He almost did already.”</p><p>“Tell him. Soon. In the meantime, I will make you better tea, and you…” She reached around the legate and pushed the door open again. “…will rest and heal.”</p><p> </p>
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